Wayward Son
by Danielle
Summary: Fleeing from the wizarding world and blaming himself for Harry's death, Ron struggles with his loss, his pain, and his future. Meanwhile everyone he left behind struggles to understand why. POV of many characters.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** This story was written using the background and characters of J K Rowling's Harry Potter novels. No financial gain will be made from this story, it is just for fun .

**Warnings:** This story contains spoilers to all five Harry Potter novels (_The Philosopher's Stone_ right up to _The Order of the Phoenix_).

**Author's Notes:** I began this story a while ago, and I want it to be known that I will not be reading JK Rowling's latest novel (_The Half Blood Prince_) until I have completed this. I really don't want to be distracted by all the wonderful new things she comes up with and lose interest in this story  Please read this as an alternate universe. This is a long one folks, the longest I've ever written in fact, and I really hope you enjoy it!

**Author's warnings:** This story does take a dark turn in the future, so pleased don't be surprised that it is not a happy novel.

**Note:** Thank you to Jessica for editing this, without her the grammar would be horrendous 

**Note: The first few chapters won't reveal everything that is coming**, so try not to loose interest, hopefully it will be an exciting read with drama, friendship, angst, and courage. There is something in here for everyone (except hopeless romantics, sorry), so please enjoy!

**Rated**: **pg13 **

**Wayward Son**

**Chapter One**

Sixth year had started with the usual mad dash onto Hogwarts express, everyone getting in the way as they anxiously tried to help load the various trunks and cages into selected compartments. The Weasley family was no exception as the red-headed mob commandeered a large section of the platform to hurriedly rush through the heart felt good-byes. Harry was crammed right in the thick of the group, being passed on from Molly Weasley to her grinning husband Arthur and on still to the twins (Fred and George) who pet him lightly on the head and crooned as though he was their favourite pet. In the end Ginny, the youngest of the large family, had ended up freeing him from the group and dragging him onto the train as its last warning horn blew. Ron had run off when they'd arrived to meet up with the other prefects with promises to meet up with Harry later, as soon as the new students and the Slytherin prefects were under control.

It had been a relief to get out from under the watchful eyes of the Weasley's, though he loved them as dearly as he would his own mum and dad. Ever since the battle Harry had dragged his friends into, leading to the death of his beloved godfather Sirius Black, Harry had felt their worried gazes upon him almost constantly. He had been blessed, of course, to have such a wonderful and understanding family adopting him as though he were one of their own. It had been their concern, their compassion, and their friendship that had gotten him through the worst of his mourning for Sirius's death. Without them he really didn't know where he would be right now, but he did know that it would have been a dark place indeed.

He missed his godfather terribly, and at night he would still see him falling into the mirror with the luring voices, never to come out again. Voldemort had tricked him, and the loss had been almost too great for him to cope, but in the end he had won. He could talk about his godfather without tearing up embarrassingly now, and remember the few good moments he had with him. His return to Hogwarts was filled with anticipation and not dread. He had sat with Neville, Ginny, and Luna Lovegood (who had traditionally read her magazine upside down the entire trip). The Creevey brothers had tried to squish into the compartment and nab the last two seats but had ended backing out rather hurriedly with their arms raised to ward off an attack from the hissing Crookshanks. The large furry cat had then stretched out luxuriously to take up the remaining two seats, daring anyone to make him move.

As the train had rolled along, fields flashing by, the group had swapped stories about their summers, played combustive dominoes from the reassembling set that Neville had brought, and relaxed. Hermione had swept into their cart, sitting right next to Harry and giving him a tight hug before frowning at the domino chalk covering the compartment. Harry had laughed and handed her some chocolate frogs that he'd saved for his absent friends. It took a moment before he realized that Ron hadn't followed her in and he frowned.

"Where's Ron?"

"I don't know, we split up about half an hour ago and agreed to meet here." Looney Luna had looked up from her reading in interest at the mention of his best friend and Harry wondered if Ron had ever noticed her interest in him. Harry doubted it though, because as much as he loved his best friend, the man was as clueless as Harry when it came to women. Hermione leaned in close to Harry and he responded in kind, knowing that she didn't want to be overheard.

"Does Ron seem a little bit edgy to you? Aside from his normal daft behaviour that is?" He frowned at her concern, and tried to think back over the last few weeks with his friend, but he couldn't think of anything out of place. Surely he would have noticed if something was wrong, seeing as they spent almost all their free time together.

"Only when Fred and George are around, and that's with good reason." The week before they'd put a jinx on his clothes so that they started shrinking half an hour after he put them on. When they'd finally stopped he had been standing in the back yard with a shirt pulled up tight to his ribs, baring his pale, slightly defined midriff and his shorts so tight that they really left nothing to the imagination. His outraged shuffle back into the house had had everyone in tears despite his anger and scarlet face. Molly had then proceeded to verbally tear the twins apart and it had taken four hours to coax a word out of Ron. He still hadn't forgiven his brothers. After that he had become very adept at avoiding any of their pranks and their older brothers became the new targets. "Why? Does he seem off to you?"

"Not really, just a bit on edge. He keeps looking over his shoulder to make sure he knows who's there. It's not that odd I suppose, after everything we've all been though." She sighed and leaned back just as Ron stepped into their cart and was subsequently showered with an exploding domino.

"Oi!" He waved a hand in front of his face to clear the air and glared at an innocent looking Ginny and Neville. Surprisingly he didn't retaliate and instead turned his glare on Crookshanks, sitting comfortably in his seat. Hermione dragged the large beast onto her lap and Ron sat gratefully, opening a chocolate frog tossed at him. His cheeks were a bit flushed and his ears were tipped red which meant that he'd either recently been embarrassed by something, or he'd been angry.

"Everything all right mate?" Harry asked as he half leaned over Hermione waiting for a response and watching him carefully. Ron shrugged in exasperation and grabbed for another frog.

"There was a bit of a row between some second years about flobber worms, of all the nutty things. I mean seriously, what could there possibly be to fight about over flobber worms? Were we ever that idiotic?"

"No, you were usually more occupied with flying your parents' car into the whomping willow at that age." Hermione stated casually and they laughed. It was good to hear everyone together and see them smiling. Harry had been relieved that Neville was still speaking to him after he'd dragged him into mortal peril the last time they saw each other, and having this group getting along like old times was comforting. However, Harry wasn't sure if Ron was being entirely truthful about only being bothered by the second years.

Five minutes later Draco Malfoy appeared in their doorway, flanked by his usual lackeys Crabb and Goyle. Harry felt the tension shift in the room to tense alertness and he leaned forward, prepared to defend himself either verbally or physically. He noted everyone else do the same, except for Ron, who folded his arms and leaned back in his seat. Harry couldn't see his normally blue eyes, because he was looking at Malfoy. There was a moment of cold silence as Malfoy looked at each person, his eyes meeting Harry's.

"Potter." He sneered and Harry just tilted his head in response waiting for more. Then Draco was looking at Ron, staring in silence a moment before nodding as if to himself. "Let's go." He ordered his surprised followers and then they were gone as quickly as they came, the big guys scrambling to get out of Malfoy's way.

"What was that all about?" Ginny asked and looked at Ron imploringly, because she, along with everyone else, had seen his silent exchange with the Slytherin Prefect.

"He was just making his usual show, stirring up the crowd and all that." Ron shrugged, slouching a bit lower in his seat, long legs stretching right across to kick his sister lightly.

"That was as far from his usual show as we are from the Burrow." She returned and stomped on his outstretched foot.

"Oi, watch it or you'll be waking up with flobber worms for your pillow next week."

"You wouldn't dare!" she exclaimed, her fiery temper rising to the bait as Ron effectively changed the subject. Harry saw Hermione frown and file some questions away for later and Harry did the same thing. There had definitely been something going on between the Slytherin and his best friend, and Harry wanted to know what.

It had been a nice clear sky when they arrived at Hogwarts and Harry looked up fondly at the castle as he trudged along with the rest of the students to the Thestral powered carriages. Hagrid's booming hello over the crowd had been warming, even though he noticed some of the first years cowering in fright. Ron and Hermione jumped into his carriage just as they headed off to the castle, arguing in what was their normal form of communication. Harry grinned at the third years sharing their cart as they watched his friends with slight unease. It was always a show when these two got into each others faces, but by the end of the ride they'd agreed to disagree and all was well once again.

The sorting had been filled with cheers of welcome and the proud grins of siblings as their brothers and sisters joined them or other houses.

"Harry! Hey Harry! My brothers starting up the school paper again!" Colin Creevey waved vigorously at him from aways down the table.

"That's great!" Harry tried to enthuse and laughed as Ron dramatically rolled his eyes.

"Perhaps we could arrange to do an interview sometime! I'm going to be in charge of photography!" Harry grinned and waved again before turning away from the excited boy.

"That's just great." Harry muttered and Ron grinned, waving a chicken bone briefly in his hand as though it were a substitute wand.

"At least this way you'll get decent presentation, those boys worship the ground you walk on."

"The last thing Harry needs is more stories floating around with his name in them. Last year was bad enough." Hermione groaned, as though every word printed about Harry directly affected her, which he supposed it did in a way, seeing as it was her or Ron that ended dealing with his sour mood.

"Ah, no worries. As long as we run cover for him he'll be fine. Maybe you could publish some of your spew splutter in there."

"It's S.P.E.W." She offhandedly corrected, though Harry saw the sudden interest in her eyes. By tomorrow she'd be wondering why she hadn't thought of starting the paper up again sooner, and he rolled his eyes at Ron. The rest of the night went fast, and after eating Harry had quickly tired. Dumbledore had given his warnings about staying out of the forest, and let anyone who was interested know that they could find the rules for the school posted on Filch's door. There would also be Auror's stationed around the school for the children's protection and they were not to be bothered. Without further ado they went to their various dorms and Harry gratefully crawled into his four-poster bed, burrowing under the heavy blankets. Twenty minutes later Ron quietly entered and changed silently, thinking Harry was asleep. He pulled on his maroon pajamas, ignoring or not noticing the fact that the legs were a good twenty centimeters off the floor. He had grown in height over the summer and stood a good five centimeters taller than Harry. His shoulders were broader but his shirt stretched to fit him so the clothes were still good enough for him. Harry smiled fondly at the sight, even though he knew it was a result of the Weasley family's financial state.

"It's good to be back." He stated and grinned wider when Ron jumped and turned to glare at him.

"I thought you were asleep." He said lamely and then rolled his eyes at his answer as he got into his own bed, muttering something about second years diminishing his brain capacity. Harry ignored his response and waited until he was settled before springing his question. He hadn't been able to get Ron alone once since the train and had been itching to interrogate him for the entire night.

"What was that between you and Malfoy on the train?" Ron blinked at him as though he didn't know what Harry was referring to, and answered in kind. Harry frowned, not sure if he should be irritated or worried by his best friend's sudden lack of honesty.

"There was nothing between us; we didn't even speak to each other when he showed up." Ron managed to say this as though it was the most obvious thing in the world and Harry stared at him in disbelief.

"Ron, are we really going to start off this term by lying to each other? After everything?" And Ron's face burned a slight shade of red as he lay back on his pillows, huffing. He and Harry had had many talks over the summer and they had been honest to each other the entire time. Ron had even held Harry when he'd woken up from a few particularly bad nightmares. There wasn't much they couldn't say to each other, but now Ron seemed to be embarrassed about something as he wouldn't meet Harry's eyes.

"No, we're not. Sorry, Harry, I just didn't really think it was all that important."

"I noticed." He urged on and Ron sighed again.

"Malfoy and I had a bit of an exchange before I came to join you lot. We came to an agreement." Harry sat up and looked at his friend imploringly. Ron was making agreements with Malfoy behind his back? Ron seemed to know exactly what Harry was thinking because he sat up to and looked at Harry.

"This is why I didn't tell you, I didn't want you to get upset." He explained.

"I'm not upset." Harry retorted, not quite knowing how he felt. "What kind of agreement did you come to?"

"The kind where Malfoy doesn't pester us anymore." And Harry heard the unspoken explanation in those words. Ron was protecting him from Malfoy's cutting ways, and he didn't want Harry to know because he was afraid Harry would think that Ron felt he was incompetent. All his red-headed friend was trying to do was help him, and it warmed his heart considerably to know that he had such a companion in Ron.

"Thanks." He said and grinned when Ron looked a bit startled at his easy acceptance. "The less I have to deal with him the easier life is. I appreciate your help." He didn't ask what it was that Ron said to get Malfoy to back off, but over the next few weeks Harry discovered that it had worked like a charm, especially when Ron was with him. Malfoy would sneer and growl and look incensed, but he never said or did anything to provoke Harry or Ron. It was one of the most peaceful times at Hogwarts that he could remember.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two **

Quidditch practice had started up, and with Harry's ban being lifted he had gladly taken to the sky on his beloved firebolt, flying in hyper circles to try and get rid of some of his adrenalin rush.

"Oi! When you've finished snogging with your broom you can join us for practice!" Ron had yelled up at him and Harry laughed as he joined the team. Ron had found his confidence last term and was a spectacular keeper as far as Harry was concerned. With Ginny becoming a chaser alongside Katie Bell (their captain) and Seamus Finnegan (who's wits were hard to beat on the pitch), and having Lily Warwick and Jason Buckley (from Ginny's class) as their beaters, Harry felt confident that this year they would do well. He grinned at his firebolt and silently told Sirius that this would be their best year yet. He was very fond of his broom, and the main reason was because his godfather had given it to him. It had been a magnificent gift, and he would treasure it always.

Towards the end of their first practice everyone was feeling good and Harry, snitch tucked away in his robes, joined them as they bombarded Ron with the quaffel. Ron's face was locked in concentration, his blue eyes intense and Harry admired his movements as he easily flew around his three posts, trying to fend off the attack from his five other team mates as they tossed the quaffel back and forth, looking for an opening. Harry watched in amusement as Ginny was the one to attack her big brother, throwing the ball sharply. With a spectacular burst of speed Ron threw himself forward and, releasing his hands from the broom, dove for the ball, just knocking it out of the way. It was an incredible save and for a moment they were all stuck in awe, that was until Ginny, who had apparently been struggling since she released the quaffel, began to slip off her broom.

"Ginny!" Angelina yelled and Harry, who was closest, caught her just in time, holding her in place on her broom with his one arm and steering them to the ground with the others following closely. Quickly they all dismounted and surrounded her, as she protested Harry's help, her face going red in embarrassment.

"What was that?" Harry asked, finally letting her go and watching her carefully as she blushed and made to straighten her practice robes.

"I don't know really. I was fine until I let loose with the quaffle, and then I suddenly felt dizzy and weak, like I was drained of all my energy." Harry noticed Ron pale in concern as he looked her over carefully. "I feel almost completely better now though. It just hit for a moment and then it took me a few seconds too long to recharge I guess."

"Well, we've had a good practice today, so I think we'll call it here." Angelina announced and pet Ginny encouragingly on the shoulder as they all righted themselves. Ron was watching her carefully and looked about ready to carry her back to the lockers at the first sign of distress. "I think you should stop by Madame Pomfrey's before supper, just to be safe. Right?" When she had Ginny's reluctant agreement they headed back to the lockers at a relaxed pace, Harry and Ron taking up the rear as the rest chatted animatedly about his last save and the practice overall.

"Are you okay Ron? You're looking a little washed out." His friend hadn't regained his full colour yet and Harry was worried that maybe he'd been hurt in that last save and wasn't telling anyone in all the excitement.

"Yeah I'm all right." He noticed Harry's disbelieving look and rolled his eyes in typical Ron fashion, as if he thought Harry was being silly. "I guess I forget how dangerous quidditch can get, and seeing Ginny lose herself like that…I thought she was seriously going to fall. Thanks for catching her." He was regaining his colour and Harry nodded in satisfaction, grinning broadly when Ron threw his arm over his shoulders and walked with him like that until they reached the lockers. Madam Pomfrey couldn't find anything wrong with Ginny much to everyone's relief, and deducted that since it was the first practice and they had all been working so hard that Ginny just became light headed for a moment. There were instructions for water breaks in their future practices and that had been the end of that. Ron and Harry joined Hermione for supper and then they all retired to the library to try and start their essays for potions.

The next morning had Harry rushing through his routine of shaving his sparsely scattered facial hair with Ron rolling his eyes at him as he brushed his teeth.

"What?" Harry demanded and then jerked as he nicked his chin, glaring as his friend laughed lightly at him. "You think this time wasting tradition is funny?" He glared and Ron spat his paste into the sink and quickly rinsed his mouth.

"I think the fact that you have to shave is funny, you barely have fifteen hairs on there." He poked Harry's cheek and laughed as Harry swatted at his hand. Ron thought this was amusing because he didn't yet have to shave. The fact that he had a few hairs starting to grow on his chin himself didn't bother him because his red hair wasn't nearly as obvious as Harry's black.

"Laugh it up; you'll get yours in the long run." He retorted and quickly dried his face, instantly healing the nick with some basic _quick nit nick_ cream from an unnamed brand. He threw his stuff back in his bath bag and rushed to brush his teeth. The three of them had decided to stay up until two-thirty the previous night, finishing the two foot essay that Snape had assigned to their class. It wasn't due for another three days, but none of them had wanted it hanging on their heads. Hermione had finished hers by twelve and had moved on to charms, leaving her paper within easy sight for Ron and Harry to skimp from. What a girl. They'd have to do something nice for her on her sixteenth birthday, which was coming up soon. Harry and Ron had already come of age in the summer, but neither of them had paid any attention to their own birthdays, what with trying to recover and everything. It had taken Ron a few weeks to properly heal from the brains that he had attacked himself with and the rest of the family had been too caught up with order business to do anything more than a dinner with the whole family. That had been more than enough for Harry, who wasn't used to even being wished a happy birthday let alone celebrating it.

Coming back to the moment however, had Harry quickly cleaning his teeth and then rushing back to his bed, throwing his bath bag on it and reaching up for his school robes. They had slept past their screech owl clock and hoped that they would be able to make it in time for some breakfast. They'd been at school for a month now and Harry was beginning to worry that Ron was neglecting to eat enough. Sure he piled food onto his plate and usually finished it all, but there had been moments when Harry and Hermione had both had to order him to finish his food when he'd pushed it away half eaten. The cheeky bugger said he didn't want to ruin his figure, but in the end he ate in order to get them to stop mothering him. For the most part it appeared harmless, but Harry was used to seeing his best friend consume everything in sight if given the chance. Harry wondered what Ron did when his two friends weren't there to watch him eat.

"You coming then, or do I have to carry you?" Ron called from the door and Harry quickly threw his book bag over his shoulder and followed him out. The common room was empty as they passed through and the fat lady took a brief moment to wish them a good day before returning to her breakfast with two visiting witches. "Boys will be boys" Harry heard her sigh in her knowing voice and he continued down the hall, keeping up easily with Ron's longer strides by simply walking a bit faster. They easily fell into a comfortable rhythm whenever traveling somewhere together and Harry was proud to note that they never had any trouble adapting to Hermione either. The three of them always fell into comfortable step around each other; they clicked in a way that made Harry oddly proud.

As they approached the hall for breakfast though, Harry noticed Ron tense a bit, though he made no move to slow down, and when they entered the hall Harry felt the frustration shifting through it. Students were talking in half hushed tones and congregating together as if something important was happening.

"Bloody hell, what now?" Ron muttered and Harry shrugged at the question, even though he knew it wasn't directed at him. He led the way to the Gryffindor table and sat down, noticing his other room mates happily eating away across from them.

"Glad you could make it!" Seamus enthused and grinned cheekily at them.

"No thanks to you, ya gits. You couldn't have woken us up on your way out then?" Ron growled as he plopped ungracefully into his seat beside Harry and leaned over him to snag a bit of toast.

"Well really, you both looked right tuckered. We figured we were doing you a favour letting you lie in like that." Neville spoke up and Harry laughed. You really couldn't get mad at Neville, especially since he was finally beginning to become confident enough to make fun of his friends. He was growing away from the shy child he had been and was becoming a right bit of fun to have around, even though Harry had always thought very highly of him before. Ron just glowered at them much to their delight, and then began munching on his toast and looking around expectantly. He was waiting for them to tell what was up with the school, but it was Ginny who took that challenge as she squeezed in between Neville and Dean, grabbing for the juice. Both boys looked slightly startled by her sudden appearance but made room nonetheless.

"Can you believe the nerve!" She exasperated, waving her arm at a group of people reading what looked like the daily prophet and forcing Dean to lean back lest he be smacked in the face. She looked at him apologetically.

"Absolutely appalling." Ron agreed.

"A bit outrageous really." Harry piped in, reaching for the now semi-cold eggs.

"Beyond ridiculous!" Ron finished and Ginny rolled her eyes, realizing that they had no idea what was going on.

"Fudge has gone bonkers and insisted that the world cup be postponed indefinitely, what with you-know-who running around and all."

"What! He's a mad hatter!" Ron exclaimed to nodding heads around him, and then staring incredulously at Harry, as if seeking his agreement. "Let me see that!" He ordered and held out his hand to the group down the table. Their paper instantly flew over in a flutter and landed in a messy pile in front of him and Harry, which Ron instantly began flipping through to look for answers. "Blimey, this is serious. What's everyone going to do if they can't congregate for some friendly sport? It's bound to start tearing apart certain relations!" He growled, taking no notice to the sudden stunned silence in his immediate area.

"Hey, give that back Ron, we weren't finished with it!" Pavarti called up the table and glared at him.

"Then you shouldn't have tossed it to us then." The red head snapped back but, nonetheless, folded and tossed the paper in their general direction.

"They didn't toss it to you Ron, you took it." Ginny stated, breaking the silence that Ron still hadn't clued into as he bristled over the news, his ear tips turning a lovely shade of rose.

"Don't be daft." He fumed and she glared at him as he finished his last bite of toast. "I see the sense in calling it off for safety reasons, but really, the wizarding world knows the threat now and can make their own decisions as to whether or not they attend." He huffed and then finally clued into the fact that they were staring at him with somewhat wide eyes. "What? You don't agree then?" Harry felt that he should speak up and say what he thought was on everyone's mind.

"I've no doubt that we completely agree with whatever it was you just said."

"Then why do you all look like a school of landed fish?"

"Ron, you just summoned that paper without a wand." Harry informed his apparently oblivious friend and Ron immediately blanked, staring as though they had all lost their minds.

"Yer all nutters, I didn't."

"You did Ron, why do you think Pavarti was so peeved!" Ginny exclaimed and stared at him as though waiting for an explanation.

"That's not what I'm saying Ginny, I'm saying I did summon it, but I used my wand." He held it up in his other hand where, apparently it had been the whole time. Neville's eyes seemed to light up in understanding but Ron saw that Ginny was still staring at him strangely.

"Since when have you become ambidextrous?" Neville asked, excitement in his voice and Harry stared at his friend in surprise.

"I've been practicing this summer. I wanted to make sure I could still use my wand, in case I sprained a wrist or something." Ron shifted in his seat, as though uncomfortable with revealing this tid-bit of information. "I didn't realize it would be so traumatizing to you lot."

"When did you have time to practice?" Ginny accused but at that moment Hermione loomed over Harry and Ron's shoulders and gazed at the group.

"We're going to be late for class if you don't get a move on." She ordered and Harry noticed that McGonagall had already departed from the teachers table. They all hurriedly stood, forgetting the conversation, and for a moment Harry had to grab the table to steady himself. He felt a whoosh of dizziness and then it was gone as Ron grabbed his elbow in sudden support.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, fine. Just a bit of head rush." He explained

"We've all stood to fast it seems." Dean exclaimed as he and Neville released their grips from the table and Ginny looked up as though she feared them falling on her. They laughed at the look on her face and then hurried out, because it really wouldn't do to be late to double transfiguration, especially since he and Ron had already rushed so much to be on time. Class had been so busy with practicing their new lessons that Harry didn't notice how quiet Ron had been since breakfast. By the time lunch came around he had completely forgotten the incident at breakfast as the three of them burst into the hallway talking excitedly about how they'd been able to manipulate their objects. Instead of what they had previously learned in class, to change on abject into something else entirely, they were now focusing on spot changes.

They thought this was quite amusing, because they had never had a problem giving their teacups legs before when they had been trying to turn them into mice. However, controlling the change and purposefully just giving their object legs was much more difficult then they had thought it would be. By the end of this lesson Harry had been able to give his spoon a set of butterfly wings, but the object had been too heavy to fly. Next class he would work on giving it a sturdier set to propel itself with. Hermione had hands growing out of her text by the end of class and they had helpfully turned pages for her as they propped the book up. Ron, unfortunately, had managed to give his fork some little, half-grown, crab legs that scuttled about in all directions and eventually broke off, flopping painfully on his table. He hadn't been discouraged though, which he normally might, and in the end they had all laughed despite their professors disapproving look. With practice he would be able to transfigure it as well as any of them, he always did.

"Ron!" Neville called as they went in for dinner, the midday sun shining brightly on them all from the ceiling. "I just want to say that I think you have a brilliant idea, what with practicing spells in our non-wand hand. I'm going to follow your lead there, you never know when it might come in handy."

"What are you talking about Neville? Ron isn't ambidextrous."

"Actually, Hermie, he is." Harry supplied and grinned at her astonished look as she pivoted on her flaming haired friend.

"Since when!" She demanded and he backed up a step as she stared at him.

"Uhhh, this summer?" He posed it as a question rather then a fact and Neville laughed, clapping him on his back and leading him to their table, away from his attacker.

"Actually, that's not a bad idea at all." Hermione approved as she sat down with them and helped herself to a sandwich. She frowned when she saw that it was cucumber but, not wanting to waste the house elves effort, she ate it without saying anything and made sure she chose differently next time. "It wouldn't hurt for all of us to practice that a bit, so long as it doesn't diminish our efforts with our normal curriculum." Ron seemed shocked that she actually thought well of his idea and pretended to swoon with gratitude at her approval. He would have done his twin brothers proud with his act.

"Speaking of which," she announced in a way that stated her new topic was completely unrelated, "Hogsmeade weekend is coming up. Have either of you any plans?" Harry looked wearily at Ron before shrugging vaguely for the both of them, hoping they weren't going to get wrapped up in some "free the house elves" campaign. "Great! I figure since neither of you have tried for you apparition tests and I just turned sixteen," she beamed at them remembering the surprise party they had arranged for her just the week before, "we should do it then. There's an office in Hogsmeade that will conduct the tests and license us, sending the results to the ministry from there." Ron grinned stupidly, seeming to have been waiting for a chance to get his testing done. His birthday had been all the way back in march, but there had been no time during school or over the summer to get his license; and with the twins popping around everywhere it had been a bit of a sore spot for Harry and him to be of age and not licensed.

"What time are we booked for?" Ron asked and Hermione blushed at being caught in already booking the appointments. Ron grinned cheekily at her, knowing that she was sometimes overzealous in organizing their time along with hers. He didn't seem to mind in the least in this instance though.

"Ten, ten-fifteen and ten-thirty." She stated and Ron crowed.

"That's perfect, that way we can pop into the burrow that afternoon and show mum and dad!" He exclaimed, already planning exactly what it was he needed to bring back to Hogwarts on their return trip. Ron always forgot something at home. From then on the rest of their spare time had been spent studying for the apparition tests, as they were all determined to pass in their first go. At one point Hermione had become beyond frustrated with Ron and told him exactly where he could apparate as she stormed off to deal with some out of place first years.

"Do you think she'd agree to marry me?" Rounding innocent eyes on Harry who subsequently choked on his tongue in surprise. "It's just that we row so well already that I always think of my parents. It's a match made in heaven really." There was a twinkle in his eye and Hermione had not been impressed when she returned to the table to find them trying to stay in their seats as they cried in laughter. "Men!" she huffed and stormed off once again, her bushy hair bouncing nicely in her wake.


	3. Chapter 3

Notes: To _Magnolia Lane_ and _Tianer_, you're not imagining things; I originally uploaded this first chapter under a different title. Then Jessica edited it for me and suggested I upload it in smaller chapters so people would have the option of taking a break in their reading without getting lost in a chapter. I apologize for the confusion and thank everyone so far for the kind reviews.

**Chapter Three**

All three tests had gone smoothly, as they had expected, and they had excitedly trudged off through the snow until they reached a location that they could apparate to Ron's warm home from. With two slight poofs and one silent arrival all three appeared in the burrows kitchen, where Ron had instructed. Molly had shrieked at their arrival and dropped a large pile of texts she'd been fixing in shock. Glaring she shoved all three out the door into the snow, and slammed it shut in their faces, Ron's eyes going wide in surprise at her reaction. They hadn't even uttered a word when, a moment later, she opened it and apologized kindly, pulling Harry and Hermione back into the warm house, and shutting the door firmly in Ron's face again. Harry sat guiltily at the kitchen table and looked at Hermione for guidance, who seemed a bit stunned, as their friend trudged around outside in the snow, no doubt freezing.

"He's as bad as the twins." Molly was muttering to herself even as she happily made some tea for her guests. Five minutes later Ron trudged down from upstairs, muttering under his breath as he shook snow from his hair. He had climbed up the side of the house and stumbled through his room's window to get in, knowing his mother wouldn't unlock the main door.

"Ron, I'm so proud of you for passing your test!" His mother had then beamed at him, giving him a crushing hug and releasing him as though nothing had happened. Ron took it in stride and grinned, sitting at the table and starting up conversation about school, his punishment for scaring her forgotten easily by both Weasley's. They stayed until Arthur came home so they could say hello and then apparated back to Hogsmeade, trudging back to school happily with a tin each of Molly's best shortbread cookies.

"She's absolutely batty." Ron had finally declared and Harry laughed, feeling elated with seeing his adoptive parents again. It was decided that on the next Hogsmeade weekend they would visit the twins at their new store, seeing as none of them had seen it yet. Of course Hermione said they had to clear it with their head of house first, because while the Weasley's were well protected from the dangers of Voldemort, Fred and George were in London and didn't have the same security. Ron had agreed easily, much to Harry's bother. Over the last few months Harry had noticed a new protective streak in Ron, one that, while not ceasing their normal mischievous behaviour, was more cautious. Hermione had noticed this too and pointed it out one night in the library, when Ron had been off talking to Madam Pinch about disciplining some rowdy fourth years.

"He's sticking awfully close to you isn't he." She stated and Harry grinned, feeling a warm tingling spread through him instead of annoyance. After everything they'd been through together he was just glad Ron still wanted anything to do with him.

"That's what best mates are for." He replied and she cut the conversation short as Ron returned.

OOOOO

They won their first quidditch match against Ravenclaw, though it had been a close game, and celebrated well into the night. The next morning in History of Magic they had all slouched in their seats, even Hermione, who was only paying half attention. It wasn't an uninteresting class by any means, it was just that Harry was too tired to care. He hated Monday mornings.

"…of course you've all heard about how the war of 1713 ended, when the feared wizard Doytil simply drained his enemy of all power, no easy feat for a wizard with even his extraordinary powers…"

"This is all in the book, practically word for word." Hermione huffed, flipping to the proper page to prove her point and Harry was relieved, seeing as he didn't want to pay attention right now.

"…there have only been fourteen known instances where this fashion of magic has been publicly practiced, though I do place emphasis on the _known_. It was the cause for the assassination of the head of ministry in 1458, the reason for the formation of Galindral's werewolf army in 1629…" Their professor floated around in front of the board, scrawling the dates across it and maintaining his normal vocal pitch.

"Can't we have, just once, a history class that is informative?" Hermione moaned quietly to her two friends and then looked shocked as she gazed at Ron, who was quietly scribbling away on his parchment. "Are you actually taking notes?" She asked, the surprise evident in her voice.

"It's much more useful than griping about being here isn't it?" Ron snapped, concentrating on his work. Harry looked at him in surprise, and noticed that he had become a bit pale since the class had started. He looked over at Hermione and saw that she was concerned rather than angry at her friends bark. She nodded at Ron's hands and he noticed that they were shaking a bit, making his writing messier than was usual. The two friends instantly forgot about their class as they watched their friend.

"Are you feeling okay Ron?" Hermione asked quietly, leaning over Harry slightly to get a better look.

"I'm fine." He replied, not looking up at either of them and visibly trying to steady his hand.

"You don't look so great Ron, and we can see that your hand is shaking." Ron sighed and put down the quill, looking over at his friends briefly.

"I might have a bit of a bug, but I'm fine. Leave it alone would you? I don't feel up to fending off questions right now." And they stopped pestering him then. His hands didn't stop shaking the entire class, but he did regain some of his colour and by the end he apologized for being snappish. "You know how I am when I'm sick." He offered, looking at Harry for confirmation. It was true, Ron had been in bed all day once at the end of the summer, and had been a right brute. He hated people asking him if he was okay, and he hadn't liked all the attention. He wanted attention for doing well at something, being sick seemed to embarrass him more than anything.

Later that night he went up to bed early and Hermione instantly leaned close to Harry so they could speak quietly in the common room. The fire was roaring in its place and there were quite a few people milling around, either looking for something to do or studying.

"There is something up with him Harry."

"Come off it, he's just a bit under the weather." He defended even though he wasn't sure he believed what he said.

"He's been different all term, though I admit he hides it well." She stated and Harry was startled to see that she fully believed what she said.

"What do you mean?" He asked and waited only a moment before she informed him.

"I'm not really sure what's wrong with him, but I swear he's hiding something. Do you remember when I asked you if he was all right on the train?" Harry nodded. "He's still doing that sometimes, looking over his shoulder as though he's checking who is there." Harry had, in fact, noticed that. But he knew that there were a number of reasons that Ron could be reacting that way.

"He's just dealing with the battle Hermione. It scared us all badly and we all cope differently. If Ron needs to make sure who is around him at all times then who are we to say any differently." He felt a bit guilty even as he said this, because he didn't truly know if it was the answer. Ron hadn't really spoken much about how he actually felt about the battle. There had been many brain jokes, lots of aggravation over healing too slowly, and a great amount of concern for Harry's own welfare, but not much on his feelings about that incident. Whenever Harry had asked he had been expertly dodged on the question, usually by having it turned on him. Ron would make a great counselor, seeing as he seemed to know that Harry's questions were usually based around something that was bothering himself, as well as his concern for Ron. Come to think of it, he never got a straight answer out of the red head.

"What about his sudden protectiveness of you?" She combated and Harry shrugged, not really sure what to say to that. "How about him turning as pale as a ghost like he did this afternoon?"

"He's sick Hermie, it's his nature to go pale like that."

"Yes, well I've caught him twice before like that, and he wasn't sick then. I'll bet he's just fine tomorrow."

"What are you going on about?"

"I've walked in on him at the library twice now, where he's tucked away in some corner reading something secretively. He's hiding something Harry, and he's worried and he doesn't want anybody to know." Harry gazed into her brown eyes, seeing the truth in her words. If Hermione Granger was worried about Ronald Weasley, then there was something wrong with his best friend. Harry had sensed something was off for quite some time now, but he had been trying to ignore it, because it was what Ron was trying to do. They'd both been so busy, what with quidditch, school, and Harry's extra lessons with Snape and McGonagall, that they didn't have time to worry, and he figured Ron would tell him if anything was wrong when the time was right. Harry felt his face fall. "You've noticed something's up haven't you?" She demanded urgently, trying to find a solution when they didn't really even know if there was a problem.

"He has been a bit different, in moments. I don't know how well he's sleeping, and I've noticed that he eats a bit less than he used too. It's strange though, sometimes he'll be perfectly fine and then, moments later, it's as though he's seen a ghost or something."

"You don't think those brains are affecting him somehow?"

"After all this time?"

"Who's to say he hasn't been hiding it from the beginning Harry? No doubt he doesn't want to make anyone's lives more difficult than they already are, especially ours or his family. I think he'd keep his own worries bottled in so that he doesn't cause any pain. You're still dealing with everything that has happened and everything that will happen, and his family is still dealing with Percy and everything else on top of that. He's afraid Harry."

"Of what?" He demanded, suddenly frustrated.

"That's what we need to find out. I've been trying to figure out what those brains in the mystery department were, but I'm not having any luck. Maybe you could ask Dumbledore?" She suggested gently and Harry looked away. He still loved Dumbledore dearly, but things had been strained for him lately. Finally having the truth, and seeing the powerful wizard cry, and dealing with Sirius's death…he just felt awkward around him now. Especially after he trashed his office, though he felt that the emotional release had been well deserved and he knew the headmaster wasn't upset. He was saved from answering when Dean scurried down the stairs and headed straight for Harry, worry etched into his features.

"Harry, Ron's being sick in the toilet and he's not letting Neville or I in to help him." Harry and Hermione both stood but they knew that she wouldn't be allowed into the boys dormitory. Harry immediately stormed off up to the group toilets to find Neville standing outside of the door, trying to get Ron to let him in with no success.

"Ron, open the door eh?" Harry heard his friend cough but there was no response. Neville looked at him worriedly. "Ron…"

"Go away, 'm fine." Ron muttered through the door.

"You're not fine Ron, let me in." Their only response was Ron vomiting again and then he was quiet, choosing to ignore them. Harry banged on the door in demand, his worry and temper flaring.

"Ronald Weasley, open this door right now or I'll owl your mother!" He shouted, and it was only a moment before the door swung open to the small room and Ron sat back, leaning against the wall. He was pale and perspiring, but he managed an aggrieved sigh.

"You don't need to owl her, you sound just like her." He grasped his stomach and rocked back and forth a moment as Harry knelt next to him and the other two boys huddled closely behind.

"What's wrong with you?" Harry asked, putting a hand to his forehead and feeling the heat radiating from him. "Never mind. You're going to Madam Pomfrey's right now." With Neville's help they hoisted Ron's lanky frame off the ground and started half dragging him to the stairs. Dean followed with a trash can in case Ron was going to be sick again and Hermione joined the group as they slowly marched to the hospital wing. They must have made quite the sight as they bundled Ron in there and gently deposited him on a bed as the healer bustled over and demanded to know what was wrong. They were made to wait outside while she looked him over and it was half an hour before they were allowed in again. Harry and Hermione were practically bouncing off the walls in worry while Neville didn't look much better. Dean was the one trying to keep them calm as they bustled back in and waited expectantly.

"He's just got an elevated fever, no doubt from all those practices you have out in that cold." She stated and looked at the concerned group with a small smile. "He'll be fine and back in class tomorrow; he just needs to get a good night sleep."

"You don't think anything else could have made him ill…possibly?" Hermione asked and Harry was too worried about his friend to scold her for prying.

"No, it just looks like a combination of stress and not enough rest. Now off to bed before curfew hits, you'll see him tomorrow for breakfast." Harry saw his friends red hair sticking out from his blanket a few beds away, but he was pushed out with the rest of them before he got a good look. If he had he might have noticed that Ron was awake and listening to them quietly. Madam Pomfrey would have been upset if she knew this but the Weasley lay still and with his eyes closed so he wouldn't give anything away. He felt Harry's eyes linger on him a moment before they were all made to leave and Ron sighed in relief as the door closed. He would get a good rest tonight and go about school as normal tomorrow. Hopefully any suspicions that his friends were formulating about him would be alleviated after this, and he would be able to get a grip and go on with his normal life. Exams were coming up and he really couldn't afford to fail any, despite his fears.

OOOOO

The next morning Ron slipped quietly into breakfast, noting that the sky was filled with fat snowflakes that fell heavily to the ground outside. The atmosphere was a mixture of morning sluggishness, grumpiness, and the almost overbearing peppiness of the few who really relished getting up early. His sister Ginny and his close friend Hermione fell into the group of energetic morning people, though he was glad to admit that this didn't make Hermione any more overbearing than usual. After five and a half years of knowing her he was accustomed to this by now. Ron never had troubles waking up once he was out of bed himself, but he used to have troubles getting out of bed. Nowadays he had trouble staying asleep for the most part, the only exceptions being when he stayed up late enough to develop a level of exhaustion that he had to struggle against just to get to bed. Luckily none of his dorm mates, and especially Harry, had noticed this new quirk of his yet. He had worked hard on excelling in privacy spells that kept them unaware of his tossing in his sleep, and he had even gone so far as to develop a spell that cast a continuous mimic of his snores for when he lay awake. The strange thing though, was that he never felt tired, despite the fact that he was down to an average of five hours of sleep a night. On the upside he was becoming very adept at calming Harry down from his nightmares before they really got started, and their roommates were none the wiser of his friend's fears. Ron knew how much Harry hated people knowing about his problems, he was a private person and only confided in his closest friends.

"Ron! Over here!" Hermione called and waved enthusiastically to where her, Harry, Neville, Seamus and Dean sat, and he headed over with what he hoped was a sheepish look on his face.

"Morning." He mumbled and sat down, leaning back a bit when a cup full of cranberry juice floated over and landed haltingly in front of him. He looked over at Neville's beaming face and realized that his friend had sent the drink using his wand in the left hand instead of his right. Ron grinned proudly and saluted with his glass, warming up to their company quickly, and began piling a few eggs on toast, staying away from the bacon for now.

"You're looking a sight better." Dean enthused and Ron noticed that they were all looking over him rather intently, searching for any possible signs of sickness. He felt his face heat slightly in embarrassment and tried to cover it by taking another gulp from his glass.

"Pomfrey's got her potions straight I'll give her that. She told me in no uncertain terms, that the only time she wanted to see me again was from the staff table and the quidditch stands. I don't reckon she's too fond of me." He grinned at Hermione's typical eye rolling and Harry's slap on the back.

"Don't take it personally mate, she's said the same thing to me on several occasions."

"The problem is that you don't listen." He retorted, grinning at the mock look of hurt that appeared on Harry's face.

"It's a right bit cosier sleeping in the hospital wing than in the dorms with the way you snore."

"Perhaps we should rent out a cot for you there then, I hear the service is fabulous."

"Are you two quite through?" Hermione asked and Ron was heartened by the grin that Harry cast her way. It was always a relief to see a true smile on Harry's face, which Ron had ensured there were more of this year then there had been last. Harry was still working as hard as ever, to the point where he was taking extra classes with McGonagall and Flitwick in preparation for his battle with Voldemort. Ron had attended a few of them, as had Hermione, and he had to admit that after every class he felt a bit more confident with his level of magic, though it wasn't as advanced as Harry's own. On the occasions that Ron didn't go Hermione usually did, and it was those moments of peace that Ron took to researching on his own, away from prying eyes.

Yesterday he had made himself sick with a sudden onslaught of fear and stress, which he usually succumbed to only when alone and able to slowly calm himself. He was doing everything he could to keep his secret and try to learn more about it without upsetting his friends. In truth he was afraid that they would turn him away if they ever found out the awful truth, and he was sure his family might react in kind. He couldn't cope with their loss, or with Harry's loss, and that fear along with worry over the fact that he might somehow hurt them one day is what triggered his panic sickness. From now on he would have to work even harder to keep them oblivious, and he should probably stop attending extra classes with the professors. They were the most experienced with magic in the school, and if anyone discovered something was wrong with his aura he would be in trouble. Thank goodness he didn't take divination anymore.

"Hey? Are you okay?" Harry asked softly and Ron broke free from his thoughts and grinned, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically, at them all. It seemed that this entire group would be watching for any signs that something was wrong for a while now, and he immediately told himself off for being a prat around them so soon.

"I'm fine, don't worry. Pass the marmalade?"

"It's right in front of you Ron." Ginny scolded and then he felt her waiting in anticipation. The jar in question was in fact too far for him to reach, as she obviously knew. Ever since he'd summoned that paper all those weeks ago she had been trying to get him to do it again. He rolled his eyes and pulled his wand to call it over when she huffed and pushed it within arms reach and glared.

"Honestly Ginny, if you want ambidextrous magic you should just ask Neville, he's becoming awfully adept at it." Her glare deepened even as Neville smiled in pride and Dean and Seamus looked between them all in interest. Harry seemed to be completely ignoring the exchange, beyond used to it by now, but Ron was sure that Hermione was waiting just as intently as Ginny had been for him to summon the jar. He grabbed it and smeared a small amount on his toast, just wanting a hint of the flavour and nothing more. He wasn't a big fan of a lot of sweets in the morning. He was about to take a big bite when he felt a familiar presence enter the room and he looked behind him sharply to watch Draco Malfoy strut in. He felt Hermione and Harry both follow his gaze but ignored them as Draco looked up and met his eyes, glaring rudely before heading to the Slytherin table. Honestly, the teenager had a sharp wit and cutting tongue, he just didn't understand the concept of subtlety. Ron turned back to his food as though the exchange hadn't happened and felt Hermione staring at him.

"What?" He demanded indignantly through a mouthful of bread.

"What did you say to him to make him back off all of us?" And he rolled his eyes, trying not to tense noticeably in his seat. He felt Harry shift curiously beside him, no doubt wondering the same thing even though he had yet to ask. Ron had been relying on his best friends engrained sense of politeness to stave off asking that question, and until now it had worked like a charm.

"Who?" Dean asked, having missed the exchange between Ron and Malfoy. Neville and Ginny looked a bit curious but not as puzzled as Dean, which meant they knew exactly who Hermione was referring to.

"Malfoy. He's refrained drastically from saying nasty things to me all term and I know he's done nothing more than glare at Harry."

"What makes you think I have anything to do with it?" Ron demanded, searching for a way to turn the subject.

"Oh, no reason, except that he avoids you like the plague and every time you two are in a room together you hold a glaring contest until he backs down. He never backed down before, and he has never, not once in the last five years, avoided a confrontation with you."

"He's just come to his senses is all. You're forgetting that his dad is no longer popular in the wizarding world, seeing as he's an imprisoned Death Eater. Draco's a nit, but a smart one at that. He doesn't want more trouble heading his way because of us."

"See, it's this 'trouble heading his way' bit that has me asking what he's afraid of. The rest of Slytherin are not holding back to the extent he is, though they have stopped pestering us as much without him leading them on. Come on then, spill it. What did you say to him?" Ron shifted uncomfortably under their gazes, knowing that he'd have to tell them something but still not really wanting to. He had been relatively surprised himself when Malfoy had not only listened to him, but heard what Ron had been saying to him that day on the train. He knew he had been taking a gamble when he told the cunning boy to stay away, but he meant every word.

"Ow!" He yelped as a foot connected with his shin under the table when he took too long to answer, and he glared at his sister. He was beginning to feel a bit caged into talking, and he didn't like that at all. "It's not your business what we discussed." He scoffed and felt his ears beginning to heat in anger. He saw Hermione's eyes narrow and held back a grin (despite his growing anger) at the way Dean, Seamus, Neville and Harry leaned back to escape both girls withering glares. Ron had grown up under Molly Weasley's glare, and though he was still nervous of her temper he was always up to a match against these two. Sometimes he thought he was the only one in the school insane enough to take them on.

"It is when it involves us, and seeing as you're not denying that you said something you might as well tell us what happened." Hermione pointed out calmly, even though Ron could easily feel how incensed she was at being left out of something.

"It doesn't matter if I deny it or not, it's still none of your business." He snapped, but she was just getting warmed up.

"It is our business, seeing as what you said may backfire and he could be plotting something truly awful and trying to throw us off his trail. I think we have the right to know, don't you Harry?" Oh, now she was playing dirty and he would not stand for that, even from his closest friends.

"Don't bring Harry into this! He's got enough things to worry about on top of being pulled into a stupid argument. Keep walking Parkinson!" He snapped without looking over his shoulder and the girl who had been approaching them stomped off in a huff, angry that he had thwarted her eavesdropping. Hermione leaned back slightly and looked at him in shock, and then a new kind of determination entered her eyes and she stood abruptly, grabbing her bags.

"We need to talk, right now. Let's go." She ordered and he glared at her, crossing his arms in defiance. She was not going to win this argument.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Fine, then we can talk here, with an audience, and I know how much you love a good audience." Maybe she was going to win this argument. She glared at him threateningly and he instantly picked up on the notion that this conversation was going to be more personal than a mere spat. He stood and glared at her, swinging his old and almost worn out book bag over his shoulder. She might have won this argument, but only until they got somewhere more private.

"Coming Harry?" He asked politely, as though they were heading to their next class, which didn't start for a half hour. Dean, Neville, Seamus and Ginny seemed stunned at their sudden change of pace and looked between them as Harry stood and casually grabbed his bag.

"Wouldn't miss this for a quidditch match." He replied and winked at Ron, trying to calm him down a bit. Ron merely shrugged and then stormed after Hermione, not trying at all to hide how annoyed he was. He caught up to her just before she reached the doors and he grabbed the back of her robes suddenly, halting her progress. She turned to glare at him just as it swung open sharply and a group of seventh years barged in. She had just missed being smashed by the rushing group, but his saving her just seemed to make her more… intense. He stormed forward and a group of third years scuttled out of his way. She had to rush to keep up to him this time but Harry, being a bit taller, didn't have too much trouble. He had to walk fast though, because it would help him to calm down.

Five minutes later he burst into the room of requirement and dropped his bag on the floor, ignoring the hooks by the door. There were no chairs in the room, and it wasn't any larger than his bedroom back at the burrow, but it was big enough to hold the three of them and he whirled around to face her. Harry stood to the side, waiting to see what this was all about.

"What is it that is so important you couldn't talk about it over breakfast?" He demanded and she glared at him, crossing her arms.

"How did you know Parkinson was there?" She asked, and despite her glare her voice was calm and reasonable. He took a deep breath and shook his head in confusion, not following the abrupt change of topic.

"What?" She didn't seem phased by his ignorance and repeated the question in a slower tone, as though speaking to a particularly idiotic individual. He resented that.

"How, did you know, that _Parkinson_, was there?"

"Where? At breakfast?" She nodded and he thought back…he had told her to sod off, there was nothing unusual about that.

"I saw her…" He trailed off when she started shaking her head, and then blanked as he really remembered what had happened. She had been behind him, and there was no way he could have seen her. He had let his anger get the better of him, and had dropped his guard around his friends again. He was such an idiot, and now Hermione wasn't going to let it go. "I heard her." He changed his story and saw Harry frown as they both picked up his lie.

"Ron, please, what is going on? We're worried about you." She said and he could feel how true that was. They needed an explanation, and they deserved an explanation. She had been holding back this interrogation the entire term, and he knew it. She had sensed that something was wrong with him from the beginning, and now he needed to tell them something. If he didn't then they wouldn't trust him anymore, and he wasn't ready for that yet. He moved and sat in the plush chairs that appeared when none of them had been looking. They sat across from him, and Harry was looking more and more worried by the second. This is exactly what he didn't want: to cause further disruption in his already complicated life.

"I don't really know Hermie. I just…sense things differently now then I did before."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, leaning forward urgently.

"I mean I sense things differently then I did before, how else do you want me to spell it out for you?"

"You mean you sensed that Parkinson was walking to our table to pry?" Hermione asked and he nodded. "You mean you sensed the group that almost trampled me at the door, and pulled me out of the way?" He nodded again and she frowned. "Ron, are you empathic?" He looked away, suddenly unsure he wanted them to know this.

"Hey, it's okay if you are Ron, we're not going to throw you away because you can sense things differently than most." Harry said quietly and those few, kind words made him want to tell them everything that was wrong. He wanted to tell them, and Harry especially, how he knew he was different now, and he knew he would never be the same again. However, he wouldn't let himself do that, he couldn't. Not yet at least. For now he would let them help him with this one problem, the rest was for him to deal with alone.

"I'm not sure empathic is what I would call it. Just…more aware of those around me." Hermione's eyes seemed to light up, as if the answer to an age old question had been discovered.

"That's why you've been so jumpy! You can feel people's presence when they get too close. That's why you're always looking over your shoulder to see who's behind you." He nodded, slightly annoyed that she had picked up on that when he had tried so hard to restrain that particular response.

"Ron, that's wicked!" Harry suddenly looked excited and Ron frowned.

"Wicked? I've turned into a spitting image of paranoia's poster child. I can feel whenever there are people around me but I hardly ever know who's there!"

"But just think Ron, once you become more confident in the skill you can see anyone around you! Not even invisibility cloaks could fool you." Harry explained, not taking any offence to Ron's bark. They had been friends a long time.

"How long have you had this sixth sense?" Hermione asked and Ron pulled his knees up to his chest, hooking his arms around them loosely.

"Since I woke up from being attacked by those brains. I think one of them used to be an elf or something, and…woke up my senses." He trailed off, remembering how confused he had been the first few days after waking up. The healers hadn't known what was wrong and Ron hadn't been coherent enough to explain what he was feeling. When he finally gained control he began to worry about what they would think and had kept his change to himself.

"Oh Ron." She stood up suddenly and came over. He dropped his legs at her approach and she hugged him tightly, letting go a moment later as if realizing that she was possibly strangling him. "You must have been so scared. I've read about how painful and confusing it can be for dormant empaths to suddenly wake up to their gift. Why didn't you tell us?"

"I was afraid you'd think I could read your minds and that you'd stop being my friends."

"After everything I've put you through you think I'd turn away because you could sense if I was around? You really are daft." Harry stood and pulled Ron to his feet, embracing him reassuringly for a moment before releasing him, and then punching him on the arm, hard. "Don't keep something like this from us ever again you hear? We could have been helping you to practice these senses the entire term!"

"That's right, we've lost a lot of valuable time. I'm going to have to do more research so we can help you learn how to read what you sense. I want you to be able to walk into a room and know exactly how many people are there. You could be our new spy detector!" Hermione was positively beaming as she walked to the door, pulling her bag from the rack. "Come on, we have class in ten minutes." She called and Ron grinned suddenly, seeing the light in this situation for the first time. Them knowing about this sense business would keep them from thinking anything else was wrong, and he would begin to learn how to use it too his advantage. Harry grinned back at him and they headed to the door.

"Just think of all the pranks we could get away with." He crowed happily, and they headed off to class.

**tbc.**

Any comments are greatly appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

It had taken two days for him to realize that something was upsetting Harry and that he was trying to hide it from Ron. Of course the first thing that he began to think was that Harry really wasn't okay with his sixth sense, and he began to feel dread settle over him. Hermione had been spending all her extra time at the library fishing out books for them to read over the hols. They didn't have time now seeing as they were swamped with revision, prefect duties and quidditch practice. They had a game the first week back and were desperately trying to get ready, seeing as their routine would be disrupted over Christmas.

It wasn't until after quidditch practice, three nights after they discovered that Ron was different, that he found the right moment to approach his friend about it. The rest of the team had cleared out in a rush, hoping to get to dinner before it closed, and Harry had lingered behind, distracted by what was on his mind. Ron tossed his practice robes on a bench and, clad in thick practice pants and a long sleeved shirt, rounded on his friend sharply.

"What is it?" He demanded and Harry looked up startled, his green eyes flashing. Ron walked right up to him, wanting to get to the bottom of this. In the past he and Harry had had some spectacular fights because they refused to talk about what was wrong. He didn't want to repeat that particular history.

"Ron?" Harry replied, confused and backing up a step, pushing his glasses onto his nose properly.

"What's wrong? Have you decided that you don't feel comfortable around me anymore?" Harry's eyes widened in comprehension and, now that he knew what was going on, stood taller. Harry never backed down, that was one of the reasons Ron liked him so much. He had an edge that Ron was only recently cutting for himself, whereas before he just noticed Harry's strength and worked his own from there.

"Don't be daft, you know that doesn't bother me."

"Then why are you moping around? What is upsetting you? And don't say it's nothing, because you can't fool me anymore, we've known each other too long." Ron stated, deciding to make it clear from the start.

"Ron…" He cut off when Ron glared at him, daring him to continue his lie. "Bloody hell, you're a lie detector too?" He suddenly looked guilty and nervous, a very un-Harry like characteristic. He moved to sit down and Ron dropped his glare, suddenly worried for his friend.

"Harry, was it something I said? Because I never meant to upset you."

"It's nothing you said so much Ron, it's just that I've realized what an awful friend I am."

"What? How have you ever been a rotten friend? If anything I should be the rotten one, what with the way I've let my temper hurt our friendship in the past."

"No, it's true. I never really noticed that something was wrong with you. When Hermione came to me about you acting queer, I just figured it was some sort of after effect from our fight with the Death Eaters. I never imagined something so…important was happening to you. I live with you, we sleep barely two meters apart and I didn't notice! What kind of friend misses the fact that their best friend is afraid and hurting right under their nose?" and it all became clear to Ron. Harry thought he had let him down, and the fact that it had been Hermione to notice something was up was making him feel an absolute shit. He laughed, unable to stop himself as relief flooded through him. He leaned back against the cool wall, feeling his damp clothes begin to chill him slightly.

"We are quite the pair you know? Here I was worried that you didn't want to be my best mate any more, and you were thinking that it was somehow your fault that I lied to you lot." This didn't seem to make Harry feel better though and Ron sighed, gripping his friends shoulder firmly and feeling the tense muscles underneath the robe. "Harry, there is a perfectly good reason that you weren't aware that something was up with me. Let's think about it logically okay?

"First, we were both recovering at the same time, me from physical injuries and you from mental. We were both in a rather shitty state, and you were grieving and blaming yourself for everything that had happened. You were at the Dursley's the first two weeks when I was coming to grips with what was going on, and by the time you moved into my room I had started to learn how to hide it. Not to mention the fact that since we were both in such close quarters we adapted to the changes in each others personalities without really noticing. Hermione wasn't there, and because we hadn't seen each other in such a long time she remembered the old me and not the new. It was easy for her to notice some different personality quirks of mine because she wasn't used to it. You changed with me, so it makes sense that you didn't see it all." Harry blinked at him a moment and then snorted in a rather undignified way. Ron felt the tense energy begin to leave his friend and instantly began to feel better himself.

"Are you trying to convince me that by being around you all the time I managed to convince myself that nothing was wrong? That is one of the silliest theories I've ever heard."

"Ah, but it is the truth I think. Besides which I was trying extra hard to make sure you and my family didn't notice. I suppose I forgot how observant Hermie can be, which is a right nuisance sometimes."

"It still doesn't erase the fact that I never noticed you were hurting."

"Harry, let me explain something to you, and please don't get upset with me. You grew up almost completely alone. From what you told me you never had friends when you were with the Dursley's."

"You were the first." He confirmed quietly and Ron nodded, feeling a flood of warmth at the admission despite the rage that he felt for Harry. It must have been a horrible introduction to life, living with those awful muggles.

"Right. Over the years you have grown so much, but that doesn't erase the fact that you were raised to look out only for yourself. You never learned how to really look out for others. I, on the other hand grew up with my family. I will never, for one moment, ever regret that I have them or that you are now apart of them, but I will admit that it taught me a lot about how to know when someone is upset about something. I also learned how to lie rather convincingly. Now, if I could only control my temper I'd be set." Harry finally laughed and twisted to hug Ron, who returned it whole heartedly. It wasn't their nature to really open up like this, but they had both grown so much over the last year that they realized how much they could trust each other. Ron felt a pang of guilt as he held his friend, knowing that while he was honest about his feelings, he wasn't telling Harry all about himself. He couldn't.

"So, that's how you were able to stop the twins from pulling more pranks on you then? By feeling that they'd tampered with your things?" Harry asked, pulling away and standing to change. Ron followed suite and grinned.

"Nah, I placed a surveliance charm on all my things, let me know when they had been at them. Drove them nuts it did. Bill and Charlie weren't too happy when they were up visiting those last two weeks." And that was that, Harry no longer felt guilty and Ron was no longer afraid that he had chased away his best friend. In two weeks they would head to the Burrow for Christmas and Hermione would join them for the last week of the holidays. For now he would try his best to enjoy the time he had with his friends and family.

**tbc **

Notes: This is an extremely short chapter. Sorry. Reviews are greatly appreciated though, just to let me know that people are at least reading this story ;) I promise the next one will be out in a few days.


	5. Chapter 5

This chapter is longer then the last, just to make up for uploading such a short passage before.

**Note:** Do not read this note if you do not wish to know about relationships in this story! Harry Lvr, the answer to your question is no, there won't actually be any romantic pairing within this story, I'm having enough fun with the friendship bits ;) However, if people want to see relationships in it (somehow) then they can go ahead and imagine all they want ;)

**Chapter 5**

"Are you going to tell them?" Hermione asked as they clumped together in Ron's tiny room. The bed had been too small for them to all sit on comfortably so he had pulled off the pillows and blankets, and piled them in the one empty corner of the room. The three of them then conjured up a rather impressive amount of blankets and pillows to add to the mess, which they had then burrowed into happily. It was quite cozy and Harry, who was propped right where the two walls met, couldn't help grinning.

Hermione had joined them that afternoon, apparating from her parent's house into Ron's backyard. She would be staying for the next week up in Ginny's room, but right now Ron's little sister had gone to town for a late night theatre production with the rest of his family. The three of them hadn't wanted to go and had been given free range of the house. It was peaceful before eight pm for the first time since they had arrived. It had been a brilliant Christmas, what with the twins popping home every night and Bill and Charlie coming back. Molly and Arthur (who had said earlier that they didn't mind if Harry wanted to call them aunt or uncle; they thought of him as a son, but weren't sure if he would be comfortable calling them mum and dad.) had cooked up a fantastic Christmas eve dinner, and the twins had (rather successfully) prepared the meal for Christmas day. There had been a few spats, but for the most part it had been all laughter. It was one of the best holidays he had ever had! Though his other holidays at Hogwarts were special, nothing could beat the family love that was shared in this home over the holidays.

"I hadn't planned on it. I hoped we could just keep it between us." Ron answered Hermione's question as he snuggled down into his pillows. Then he seemed to catch Hermione's rather affronted gaze and quickly added "At least for now, you know? Until I get a better grip on things." This seemed to appease her and she smiled between the two of them. She had pulled on the lavender coloured jumper Molly had made for her, and both he and Ron were already wearing theirs. They must have looked quite the site piled up with all the different colours in the corner of the tiny room.

Pigwidgeon had been tuckered out from sending a rather heavy letter to Hagrid from the three of them that afternoon, and was therefore sitting quietly in his cage. Occasionally he would give a half-hearted hoot, but beyond that he was too tired. _Finally_. Ron had sighed when he saw this. _I swear he's not a normal owl, I don't care what Crookshanks thinks. He's messed up in the head that one_. Hedwig had gone out into the cold winter night to hunt and wouldn't be back for a few hours.

The three of them had spent all afternoon discussing their holidays, the next semester, and playing various games. It had been very snowy outside and they hadn't felt up to leaving the warmth of the house. Now, however, Harry sensed that they were going to be discussing more than just school.

"Right. Well then, Harry. I'm sorry to ask but how's your scar?" He held off a grin at the look on Ron's face when she asked this question. It was a cross between exasperation and shock that she would just jump in like that. He shrugged at her.

"Fine for the most part. It hurts now and then, but nothing severe. And I'm still not having any issues with Voldemort trying to play with my mind-" Ron shuddered a bit at the name but they both ignored him. "Nothing new on that front, and the order isn't telling us anything at all."

"They're afraid we might run off and attack V-V-Mortie by our selves again." Ron grumbled and Harry had to agree. They had no plans on doing any such thing, but the order wasn't about to take any more chances. It was amusing actually, how paranoid they were of a group of teenagers overhearing their conversations. Lupin, Tonks, and various others had dropped by before Christmas and they had guarded their meetings like the goblins guarded Gringots.

"No matter, we'll learn what we need to know when we're meant to." She stated and suddenly a pile of books and paper appeared in the middle of their pile. Now that they were old enough to use magic whenever they wanted they made a point to show it off. It was quite the luxury and Harry was beginning to wonder how he ever managed outside of Hogwarts without it.

"You said a couple of books, Hermie, not half the library." Ron complained as he shifted a heavy text off his hand and then pulled at a piece of parchment, covered from top to bottom with her writing.

"If we're going to learn how to use the sixth sense right, then we need to do the proper research. Now." She fixed Ron with a look that reminded Harry of McGonagall when she was collecting homework. "Have you been practicing like we decided?"

"As if Harry would let me get away with not practicing."

"Good show Harry. Now, how's it going then?" Harry laughed at the sudden grin that split Ron's face as he launched into an explanation. Before leaving school they had decided that Ron would practice some basic skills to develop his sense. Every morning when they woke up he and Harry had sat in his room and he'd closed his eyes, searching for his family members by feeling where their energy was. The first two mornings hadn't worked so well because he was still trying to figure out how to read each person individually. After he began understanding how to do that he would say who was upstairs and who was down. They would then investigate. He hadn't been wrong since their fourth morning.

"It's peculiar is what it is. Each person feels slightly different but I didn't understand how at first. I'm not sure I understand it any more now, but I can recognize each energy signature I feel and place it to one of my family. It's like looking at a particular style of writing, and once I became familiar with it I had no trouble determining who was who."

"He can sense people all the way out to the road if he's concentrating hard enough. We scared the daylights out of Bill when he came home late from town one night! He still can't figure out how we knew where and when to hide to scare him."

"All the way to the road! That's fantastic!" She bubbled and started scribbling down some notes. Harry figured she would be writing a study up on this and really hoped that she would remember to ask Ron if she could publish it before going public. "Is it becoming any easier to distinguish between people?"

"I haven't really been anywhere but here, but I think so. Now that I know how to separate the signatures it shouldn't be too hard. I was doing it before, but not on purpose. In fact the only time I knew exactly who was behind me was when I was distracted and not thinking, just feeling."

"I guess it's safe to say you know Malfoy and Parkinson pretty well."

"And all the professors. It was crowds of people I don't know well that had me acting so jumpy. I guess it's probably a lot like Harry looking at a group of people without his glasses, all blurry and such."

"That's annoying as anything." Harry agreed and picked up a book. "Unsolved Crimes: A Psychics Intuition." He read out loud and looked at her in question. "He's not a psychic." He pointed out and she rolled her eyes, removing the book from his hands.

"It might give us some insight on why some people have a certain gift of sight while others are stuck with basic senses." She defended.

"Paranormal Presence and the Sixth Sense." Ron read out loud and looked at Harry. "This is going to be a long night mate."

"It's not that bad, in fact a lot of this is really interesting. Besides, most of these books are for reference more than anything else. We need all the information we can get." The night had flown by and by the time Ron's family trudged through the door all evidence of their research had disappeared and they were asleep in a pile on the floor. Harry never noticed Ron get up in the early morning or when he rejoined their pile not an hour before the house started waking up to the banging of the ghoul upstairs.

The next week had Hermione testing all sorts of theories on Ron and Harry had gleefully helped her. It was actually quite the gift to not be the center of attention, and he was relishing every moment. It wasn't often that he wasn't the cause of their extra research.

They went into town several times, allowed to apparate to a different location each time they went. There had been a story in the paper about Harry being swept out of country for the holidays and the threat of Mortie, as Ron had started calling him, was minimal for the time being. He was certain that Molly was actually grateful that they weren't at the house every hour, seeing as it was quite the crowd she had to manage. Ron was learning how to use his new gift quickly and he was surprising them all. They had figured it would take at least a month before he would be able to accurately use his sense without having to really concentrate. It turned out he was a natural at it, which lead them to believe that the brains hadn't created his sense, but just made him aware that he already had the skill.

When they had once again relocated to Hogwarts Ron was no longer having difficulty distinguishing how many people were around him (if he concentrated on it), and he was able to control the level his awareness stretched too. He had confided in Harry, one night at the burrow, that it was a relief to not have to consciously control the force of each signature around him. It appeared that every time he wasn't thinking about his sense it would randomly crash into him, freaking him out a bit. _It's like being in the library. _He had explained. Y_ou're just quietly minding your own business but know that there are loads of people milling about in the background, and then suddenly you're dropped in the middle of the stands of the quidditch cups final game! It drowns you and deafens you and you are bombarded by bodies and energy and, frankly, it startles the chocolate frogs out of you. That's why I used to get jumpy; I'd be minding my own business and then feel absolutely attacked. It only ever lasts a second, but it's bloody disconcerting._

Now Ron never had to think about controlling the spikes, he just adapted naturally. The first day back in Hogwarts had Hermione practically glued to his arm, which Harry had stood back and smirked at the whole time. She was in her element, solving problems, and hadn't let up until supper. She was finally satisfied with her information and Ron had looked relieved at being left alone. He had glared at Harry when he caught him smiling across the table, and had tried to kick him in silent retaliation. Seamus hadn't been impressed as he rubbed his shin to relieve the sharp pain.

Harry had been relieved that Ron hadn't blamed him for not noticing his –predicament- sooner, and he felt that their friendship had strengthened even more because of Ron's new talent. The first two weeks back (which saw Ron making incredible saves and Harry easily catching the snitch to win the quidditch match against Hufflepuff) had been busy but fun. They had developed a sort of code, as childish as they joked about it being, to warn when certain individuals were approaching them. Ron had dragged Harry into no less then four alcoves to hide once from the Creevey brothers, once from Snape, and twice from Mr. Filch's cat as they had snuck into the kitchen for some late night snacks. It was no doubt behaviour that could get them both into great trouble, especially Ron who was a prefect, but they thrived on the reckless feelings it gave them. They never did anything damaging and, between Harry's invisibility cloak and Ron's sense, they had explored several areas of Hogwarts that they had never been before. They had even avoided detection from no less then two Aruror's, which made them both exhilarated and fearful. If they could get by the highly trained guards, then who else could?

Now Harry stood, alongside the rest of his class, in ankle deep snow watching his teacher, and good friend, Hagrid carefully place his last dragon newt back in its box. It was Wednesday, just before dinner, and they had finished another double Magical Creatures class. Harry felt his smile stretch his face as several students around him asked Hagrid questions about his latest creature. They had spent the last hour, examining the hand sized animals, learning which of the six arms to watch out for, how to care for it, how to handle it without getting hurt by its burning bodily liquids, what medicinal purposes it had and all the rest. It had been a fascinating class, despite how tricky the creatures could be.

Hagrid had been improving greatly as a teacher, especially since his first year of teaching. He still loved his dangerous creatures, but he introduced more variety now, interspersing his blast-ended skrewts with flying orange foxes and other, nicer, creatures.

"That was excellent Hagrid!" Hermione beamed as he headed over to them, carrying the box with his precious cargo tucked under one massive arm. His eyes crinkled as he grinned, and he rubbed his beard quickly in pride.

"Thank you Hermione! Next week will be even better, seein' as my piranhawalkers will be old enough to introduce. I've had 'em growin' since last term and they're gettin to a right impressive size." Harry noticed both Ron and Hermione's smiles falter but not disappear as they imagined what that class would be like. Harry had seen the animals briefly the other week and knew that they would have to be quick to control them. Fortunately they were at the stage where using certain spells to help them was encouraged, though Hagrid preferred they learn how to handle everything with their bare hands.

"And I'm sure we'll be right impressed with trying to keep our limbs attached." Ron smiled and Harry laughed as Hagrid heartily pat him on the back, knocking him slightly off his feet.

"That ye will young Mr. Weasley. Now, how's about you three join me fer a cup of tea. I know Fang'll be right eager to see ye, as it's been almost two months since ye've had time to stop in. I've got some fresh rock cakes fer ye to munch on, baked 'em not four hours ago."

"We'd love to." Harry answered and they headed back to his table where all his tools sat. As had become routine over the years they began helping him to pack things away, Harry working as fast as he could as the heating spell he'd placed on himself finally began to wear off. Ron had helped himself to the box holding the three dragon newts and looked over at Hagrid, waiting for direction.

"Those'll be goin' out back in the shed. Just put 'em on the table and that'll be fine." Hagrid told him and Ron turned away to trudge around back, his flaming hair standing on end from the slight breeze. "Oh and Ron? Stay away from the cage covered with a blanket, right? We don't want to wake Buttercup up." Hagrid then happily led Harry and Hermione to his home, which they were very familiar with. Fang had insisted on saying hello as they tried to get in the door, doing his best to lick Harry's face as his massive tail thumped noisily against the shelf to the side of them. If it hurt the big dog he didn't seem to notice as he happily followed their movements. Once Harry had put down his load he pet the large black head, grinning as the dropping eyes seemed to smile at him. Hagrid went and put a pot of water on the fire and fished out a plate of his rock cakes, which really were as hard as eating rocks. He helped Hermione with her cloak and then headed to the window, no doubt to check on Ron's progress. After a second his enormous body seemed to freeze in place and then he was rushing to the door, hastily grabbing a large chain from a chair as he went.

Harry and Hermione scrambled out the door after him, seeing him round the corner of his house and Harry felt his stomach freeze up in dread. Ron was behind the house, and Hagrid had looked as close to panicked as Harry had ever seen him. He automatically pulled out his wand and instinctively knew that Hermione had done the same, and they rushed around the corner together, not knowing what to expect and yet prepared for anything. At least he hoped they were.

He skidded to a halt at the sight of Ron standing off to one side, his hands up in caution as he stared over to where Hagrid now was. His face was pale but he looked over at Harry and Hermione when they arrived, and slowly headed over to them.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked and Hagrid was suddenly spinning Ron around and frantically patting him down, his eyes intense as he looked over him.

"Ye all right Ron? She didn't hurt ye?"

"Yes, no, I'm fine." Ron stammered, looking around Hagrid. Harry followed his gaze and saw a large cage with a blanket hastily thrown over it, obscuring the view of what was inside.

"Fine? Fine? Bloody lucky to be alive is what you are! I told ye not t'go near her didn't I?" Hagrid demanded, looking for all the world as though he was recovering from a heart attack, his face beneath his massive beard was pale and his hands were shaking slightly.

"I didn't go near her!" Ron replied hotly, regaining some of his colour as his temper flared at the accusation. "I put the newts away like you said and came out of the shed. I heard a noise and turned around and it was behind me. I never went near the cage, I'm not suicidal!"

"Allrigh' I'm sorry I barked at ye. Fer a moment there I thought you were…well that doesn't matter now. Buttercup was just lying there, asleep like that when you left the shed?"

"Y-yes. I figured I'd back away slowly to get you but you came around the corner only a moment later."

"And you didn't notice her when you went into the shed?"

"No." Ron replied and Harry noticed that his hands were shaking a bit too, though he had them mostly hidden under his robes.

"Strange that is." Hagrid replied and looked over at the cage before herding them back to his house.

"Why is it strange? What is Buttercup Hagrid?" Hermione asked and he didn't reply until he had them all inside.

"Yer not to tell anyone this, right? Professor Snape and Madame Pomfry had her brought here two days ago. She's in heat you see, and she molts at this time of year. We're harvesting her undercoat for some very rare medicines."

"But what is she?" Hermione pressed on and Hagrid bustled over to the now whistling kettle.

"She's a Barilog, from Switzerland."

"A Barilog! Are you mad?" She burst and Ron paled a bit at the name, though Harry suspected he already knew what the creature had been. Harry, however, was once again in ignorance of this particular bit of Wizarding knowledge.

"What's a Barilog?" He asked and Hermione, still looking shocked, answered him.

"It's a rare beast from the Alps. It eats meat, attacks people, has razor sharp claws and spits poisonous needles from the back of its throat that paralyze its prey. It usually doesn't grow any larger then a small dog, but it is extremely dangerous, and should never be in the premises of a school, or public area of any kind." She glared back at Hagrid who was nodding his head in agreement, which seemed to throw her off.

"I know it Hermione, and it's leavin tonight. It was only here for three days and only the staff was to know about it. Ron's right lucky it got out at day instead of night."

"Why?" He asked again, suddenly understanding why his friend had looked so terrified. He looked over at Ron now, who seemed to be a bit full of adrenalin still. His feet were bouncing an erratic tune on the floor.

"It usually sleeps during the day. I think it was too tired to do any attackin', though that in itself is unusual, seeing as once they're awake they're down right feral. Ye didn't see who let it out or any one else in the area that could have put 'er to sleep?"

"No, just me and the dragon newts. Can we maybe stop talking about the creature that could have been the cause of my premature demise not ten minutes ago? It's a bit…unnerving at the moment." And they moved on to another topic. Hagrid had steered clear of talking about the Barilog, but he kept glancing at Ron in worry, as if he was reassuring himself that he was okay. He said he had both Snape and Pomfrey's locking charms on the cage, so the only way it escaped was through the aid of magic. This fact put all four of them on edge, because it meant that somebody was trying to do them harm.

Later that night, just before curfew, Ron quietly slipped out of the Gryffindor common room, and Harry followed him, staying back even though he was well aware that Ron knew he was following. He had to hurry along quickly at a few points and he got the impression that Ron was trying to ditch him. This only intensified his search. He'd had to ask several paintings which way he went, and they had gladly informed him, watching curiously as he sped on. He stopped sharply when he heard Ron suddenly call out, and he hid in the dark shadows, peering around the corner.

"Oi! Malfoy, a word if you will." There was nothing inviting in Ron's voice and Harry was momentarily startled by its tone. They had been through quite a few scraps together, life threatening in fact, and Ron had never sounded so confident and commanding. As he peaked around the corner he saw Malfoy stop, only steps away from the Slytherin entrance to their dorms, which was guarded by a rather aggressive looking statue. Its eyes watching them suspiciously.

"What is it Weasley, it's past your bed time," was the snide remark, blue eyes flashing coldly. Ron stalked right up to him though, and looked down into his eyes as if he could see what Draco was thinking. The Slytherin faltered a moment before returning with a glare of his own.

"What do you know about Hagrid's Barilog getting out?" Harry shucked in a breath at Ron's revealing question. How could he betray his friends trust like that?

"Bloody thing got out did it? Too bad it didn't have a chance to get you, end your family's suffering." Ron just stared at him and waited, and after a moment Draco caved, glaring angrily up at Harry's best friend. "Look, I don't know anything about plans for it to get out. As far as I know only the teachers, and now you, know about it. Don't worry, I didn't sic it on your precious boyfriend." The blonde sneered, trying to get a rise from Ron.

"That's good. Stay away from them Malfoy, and if you learn who let it loose, I suggest you warn them off too." There was no shoving to enhance his threat, and no real malice in his calm voice. It was the look that Ron was giving Malfoy that convinced the Slytherin to keep staying away.

"How'd you find our dormitories entrance anyway? You better not spread it around." Malfoy glared.

"Don't be daft." Ron called over his shoulder as he left the area with long strides. He rounded the corner and automatically slowed down, allowing Harry to catch up.

"You use your sense to find him?"

"Yep. Bloody useful it is."

"That's pretty much what you said to him on the train then." Harry deducted and Ron grinned ferally.

"Pretty much, mind you it sounded more like 'Keep yourself and yer baboons away from Harry, Hermione, and our friends.' Apparently he thought that was a good idea. He's all talk, you just have to know how to get him to listen." Harry nodded and grinned as they walked along, back to their tower. Ron had the temper of his mother with the calm logic of his father. It appeared he had finally mastered how to use them together, if that little show was anything to go by. Harry was glad that he and Hermione would never be the recipients of that glare.

OOOOO

"_You had me at hello."_

"What the bloody hell is that?" Ron asked as he walked into the darkened common room for Gryffindor tower.

"Shhhhhhh!" Several witches and one (unidentifiable) wizard hissed at him. He raised his eyebrows in surprise and looked at Harry for an explanation. Harry grinned at him and watched as he made his way along the side of the common room carefully, glancing at the television with curiosity every few steps.

"Hey, is that one of those telees you and Hermione go on about?" He asked as he slid into the empty armchair beside Harry and across from Hermione. Harry noticed he leaned a bit closer to the fire, no doubt to warm up a bit. His hair was a bit wet, which meant he had probably been outside for a few minutes before coming to join them. His blue eyes focused on the television with interest, sparkling merrily in the firelight.

"It is." Hermione answered back quietly, trying to not make too much noise for the crowd gathered around it. Some were curled up on conjured couches, others had pulled the common room furniture in front of the box and others still were sprawled on the floor underneath a patchwork of blankets. "Neville and Ginny asked if they could borrow the muggle studies television so they could introduce it to the people who had never seen one. They've been glued to it for the last hour and a half."

"Any particular reason for this sudden interest?"

"Harry mentioned it at lunch today, about how it was a box that told all sorts of stories. I guess it just caught their attention, and with all of our essays due and final exams coming up next month they no doubt wanted an excuse to procrastinate." She looked disapproving at this and Harry grinned. She was irritated with anyone doing something that she thought of as time wasting.

"Dad would love that contraption. He told me he'd seen them in muggle shops before but they were too much to buy. Mind you he'd probably ruin it after a day, trying to figure out how it all worked."

"My parents have an old one collecting dust in the attic. It doesn't work anymore but maybe they'll be willing to part with it. I'll ask next time I send an owl."

"That would be brilliant! Dad could use a bit of cheering up! He's been going crazy at work, dealing with stupid pranks and such in between dodging questions from his fellows and Fudge. He's a right prat he is, and if the wizarding world has any intelligence he'll be shoved off at the next election." Harry nodded in agreement and followed Ron's gaze, watching the muggle actor strut around in a suit. He liked television, but he never had really watched it. Dudley had always had control over it and Harry usually wasn't allowed to stay in the living room when his cousin watched. He'd never been to the cinema either. Maybe he could take Ron for his birthday, that way they could both see something new and fun. They could make a day of it, and maybe Hermione would want to come.

"We can only hope." Hermione replied to Ron's statement, and then she rolled up her parchment and began closing the books around her.

"You're done then?" Harry asked, looking longingly at her packing away and then at his own work. Their new defense against the dark arts teacher (Professor Kawolskelli) was as demanding as Snape and McGonagall. She would spring pop quizzes, both written and practical, on a whim; assigned an essay a week that didn't relate to the subject they were currently studying; and had absolutely no patience for her students whatsoever. She was a damn sight better than Umbridge though and so far not one of the three of them had complained. Even Neville wasn't complaining, and ever since the DA he had gained a confidence that had him helping other students in the class as opposed to being the one needing help. It was just that Harry really didn't feel like writing this essay tonight. He'd only finished a late meal an hour ago, after being held back in DADA to practice a shielding spell. Kawolskelli had taken it upon herself to give Harry a few extra pointers.

"It's one of her easier essays." Hermione explained and then looked at him with pity. She pulled out a book she had just packed away and tossed it on the table between them. "The pink stubs are for defense against it, the green are methods of incapacitation, and orange is for background. Goodnight." She hurried away as if afraid that Kawolskelli might burst into the tower any moment and find her helping them so much. Ron grinned as he leaned forward and snagged the book. He was looking a bit warmer now, though his shoulders still looked tense. He looked like Harry felt: relaxed and safe but always tense, waiting for the next disaster to sneak up on him. Harry had nights when he couldn't sleep, feeling the pressure of the wizarding world on his shoulders.

He was getting mail on an almost daily basis now, strangers thanking him for _being_ Harry Potter and asking him when he'd get around to saving them all. It was as if he simply needed to decide when, where, and what time he would fight Tom Riddle. _We'll just schedule it in after our Defense Against the Darks Arts exam shall we? That way all three of us will be free for the final battle. We can go to dinner at the Leaky Cauldron after, assuming the fight will be in London of course._ Ron had scoffed in irritation. He had then grabbed the day planner Hermione had so thoughtfully given Harry and scrawled under June 22nd, in his usual messy handwriting: _Battle with Mortie, London, 3p.m._ Harry had only been able to laugh at that point, even though he felt a sick twist in his stomach and knew, from the way that Ron laughed with him, that his friend was suffering the same twist. It was Harry's battle to fight, but Ron and Hermione were just as scared and involved as he was.

Harry came back to himself as Ron tossed the heavy text, with a thump, on the table. The lights were a bit brighter now and those that had been watching the movie were clambering over each other to go to their next activity, be it sleep, homework, or whatever.

"Where were you at lunch?" He asked and picked up the book himself, turning to the first tab. It showed a rather vivid image of a fire elemental striding towards the photographer. It had no discerning features, just the basic shape of a person.

"Malfoy wanted to talk." Ron shrugged, and began pulling parchment from his almost defeated book bag, trying to look as if it was nothing too serious and at the same time practically bursting with the need to tell Harry all about it. All Harry needed to do was ask, to find out what had happened this time.

"About what?" He couldn't quite disguise the bitterness in his voice but Ron ignored it. Malfoy was on neither of their good lists, for many reasons. Ron turned to him and pulled out his wand. Harry leaned over a bit to hide it from their fellow housemates view and Ron quietly muttered "esufnoc trotsid." With their garbling charm in place (one that they shared with Hermione, Neville, and Ginny) nobody would be able to interpret what they said, unless they recorded it and listened to each word backwards. Of course even recording it was impossible because Dumbledore (who had walked up on them during one of their garbled conversations near the room of requirement Ron still didn't know why he hadn't sensed the wizards approach) had casually mentioned the title and page number of a text containing a charm that would garble any recording devices as he strolled by. They had blended the two spells to work together perfectly. Hermione had been very proud, for it had been their first personalized spell. They normally didn't learn how to do that until they reached a higher level of education, such as auror training.

"He had a blow out at home over the holidays, something to do with his dad I think. He wasn't to clear on it and I didn't ask. Whatever it was he seems to be less inclined to help out Mortie's movement than he was when his dad was still free. He told me that we needed to keep an eye out for the person who let loose the Barilog, said he didn't know who it was yet but he suspected they were spying for their parents, an unsuspected death eater." Harry gazed at him incredulously, not quite sure he was hearing everything right.

"Malfoy pulled you over to say he was turning on Voldemort because he was mad at his dad, and he's trying to help us now."

"Yep." Ron answered and grinned at Harry, who figured he must have a stupid look on his face.

"And you believe him?"

"Give me some credit Harry" He exclaimed. "I'm not the smartest by far, but I'm not an idiot. He's a Malfoy, he's been bred to lie and manipulate; it's in his blood."

"I was just checking." Harry replied quickly, though he new Ron wasn't mad at him. Then a bizarre thought entered his head and he wondered if he was losing his mind for even thinking it. "What if he's telling the truth? Helping us would be the ultimate revenge against his father, if that's what he wants."

"True. I've been thinking about it all afternoon and came to the conclusion that, while we can't trust a breath that comes from his mouth, we can't ignore what he says."

"So we need to keep an eye out for a spy. Tell us something we don't already know."

"I know, but it does reinforce the message doesn't it. We've been keeping a definite eye out since the Barilog incident, and we know that the professor's are aware of it as well."

"We'll watch Malfoy more closely, and we'll need to start taking a note on who is around us and when. It would be stupid to only watch out for Slytherin, so we'll need to be more careful around everyone, including Gryffindor." Harry felt his chest tighten as he said this. Ron could have been killed last week, and it was apparently a miracle that the Barilog hadn't mauled him to death. Someone in their school was out to get them, and finally accepting that it could be anyone, even one of their own housemates, was going to make living here even more unbearable.

"I agree. I know our professors wouldn't have us living with anyone they thought was dangerous, but it's impossible for them to be sure." He looked grim, his blue eyes flashing angrily as he held back a few choice words about this new situation.

"We'll have to tell Hermione and Ginny about this."

"And maybe Neville." Ron added and Harry nodded in agreement. Dean and Seamus were trustworthy and good friends, but Harry wasn't sure how much he wanted them to know. They just weren't in the same level as Hermione, Ron and Neville, who Harry would trust with anything.

"We should start looking for anti-spy charms to place around our dorm and such. There's no harm in our books being taken, seeing as we never write anything other than work in them. We need to make sure that the five of us will not speak of anything that could give any information about us away, outside of such charms." Ron was nodding his head in agreement, eyes flickering behind Harry a moment and then gazing at him again, intent on the conversation.

"I'll have to tell Ginny about the sixth sense so she'll stop pestering me all the time. Neville should probably know too if we're including him on this. However," Ron pulled his wand out and Harry, without any real thought, leaned forward to block his action again, "We should discuss this later, seeing as we're starting to collect some strange looks. Reverso trotsid." With a quick and precise flick of his wand their garble spell was removed and he slipped his wand back out of sight. Harry heard Pavarti approach behind him just as she leaned around his chair.

"You boys look serious, is something wrong?"

"Yes, I've decided to quit the quidditch team so I can focus more on my prefect obligations." Ron answered, sounding so distressed that Harry knew he would have believed his best friend if he hadn't known it was a joke.

"What!" Pavarti yelled, suddenly glaring down at Ron in shock and worry. "You can't do that! You've made a commitment to our team! There's no way we can train a keeper in time for the final!" The look of horror on her face as well as her outburst was drawing attention to them and Angelina stormed over, looking at them for an explanation. She stared at Ron for a second, and then smiled, shaking her head in fondness and dragging Pavarti away from them. Harry heard her telling the girl that Ron was pulling her leg, and if that wasn't the case then she would pull his right off. So really there was nothing to worry about. He and Ron laughed together as the hubbub died down.

"Really, you'd think quidditch was the most important thing in the world." Ron muttered as he finally began preparing his quill and kicking Harry under the table before he could reply. Then they worked, until they were the last in the common room and the moon was high in the sky outside. By the time they finished Harry's eyes were drooping closed on their own accord and Ron looked like he was on his last legs. When they went to sleep they made sure their alarm was set properly, and Harry lay on his back, eyes closed, listening as Ron's breathing evened out across the room. His scar flared in pain briefly and then settled down again. Voldemort's movements were becoming more frequent, and Harry was finding that his forehead hurt more often than not lately. He had a feeling, deep in his being, that told him the final battle was approaching. He was beginning to lose sleep, and the prophecy was more on his mind now than it had been in months. He hoped, with all his heart, that he would be strong enough when the time came.

**Tbc**

Was it enjoyable? Please let me know!


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"Ah, Ronald. Just the Weasley I wanted to see!"

"Ah!" Ron spun around as the head of Hogwarts called his name from right behind him, and in the process tripped over the shoelace he had been bent over tying and tumbled to the floor. He felt his book bag digging into his shoulder as he looked up into the eyes of Dumbledore, which were dancing in merriment at surprising him so effectively. "Headmaster!" He let the title stumble out of mouth and felt his face burn in embarrassment. It had been so long since someone _could_ sneak up on him that it had scared the red out of his hair, he was sure of it.

"Right you are young master Weasley, and might I add that your reflexes are impressive!" There was an approving glint in his stormy eyes and Ron was confused for a moment, seeing as he was sprawled on his backside due to his apparently ingrained clumsiness. Then he noticed the eyes flicker to his right hand and he realized that he had somehow managed to pull out his wand as he fell. Huh, he supposed that must have been impressive, but still he felt his ears flame with embarrassment. It had to be Dumbledore, of all wizards, to catch him unawares and shock him into falling on his face. He must look like quite the arse.

"Impressive if I ever need to duck I suppose." Ron muttered and quickly hustled to his feet, ignoring the burning on his back where he had landed. His too short robes fluttered about as he stood and met the grinning wizard, who seemed to not mind his ineptness in the least.

"Ducking is a skill that is not practiced nearly enough at this school." He replied and looked at Ron thoughtfully. Ron began wondering what was going on. It was the first time that Dumbledore had ever approached him in the six years that he had been coming to this school. There was always Harry or Hermione, or his parents or another member of the order present when they spoke before. It wasn't that Ron resented that fact, just that he was baffled as to why this great wizard might be looking for him in particular.

"Is there something you needed sir?" They were standing in the middle of the hallway, and any minute students would be swarming the halls, rushing to their classes. Ron had been on his way to meet Harry and Hermione in the court yard so they could head to Hagrid's class together, he had actually planned on being there first, but that wasn't going to happen now.

"No, nothing in particular. I saw you and decided that it was the perfect time to say hello." Okay, it seemed that Dumbledore was up to his old antics, but Ron was pretty sure that the wizard never did anything without reason, despite his oddness. Something was up. Ron felt the other students begin to approach and he looked around his headmaster just as the first door burst open and third year Hufflepuffs began bouncing into the halls. Ron stood taller, trying to not appear as awkward as he felt standing next to Dumbledore, the only ones in the hallway. He was almost as tall as the great man, and though he suspected he would never grow to match him in height, he was very close. It was odd. No one seemed to notice though, as they happily walked around them. He looked back at Dumbledore and shifted on his feet as the wizard looked at him as though he was a particularly interesting oddity.

"Umm" Merlin, could he sound anymore idiotic? "If you're sure there's nothing I can help you with, then I suppose I should get to class."

"Of course, of course. Do say hello to your parents the next time you speak." And with that Dumbledore was walking lightly down the hall, humming a Weird Sisters song under his breath and saying hello to every student who looked at him. Ron shook his head and quickly tied his shoelace. He rushed the rest of the way to the court yard and pulled up to his friends. Hermione glared at him for being late and he glared back for the sport of it.

"Dumbledore is the strangest wizard I'll ever meet." He greeted them and recounted their brief conversation as they headed down the hill. It was another interesting class as they learned how to read the weather due to the colours of a climadillo's shell and Ron forgot all about his little encounter with Dumbledore. It wasn't until that evening when he and Harry trudged to their beds that he was reminded of it, and that was only because of the thick note addressed to him that lay on his pillow. He picked it up and examined it carefully, looking for any signs that it would explode upon being opened. His brothers sometimes sent him letters just for that purpose.

"What's that?" Harry asked as he shrugged out of his robes and into his pyjama shirt.

"Dunno." He muttered and opened it carefully, holding it away from his face. He immediately looked to the bottom of the note and saw the headmaster's name and title politely written out. "It's from Dumbledore." He said, and Neville, who was the only other boy in the room at that moment looked over in interest.

"What's it say?" Harry came over and waited for Ron to read it out loud and he went to the top of the short note.

Dear Mr. Weasley 

_Congratulations on your new gift. Aura interpretation and identification is a skill that not many wizards are able to master. You will find that several creatures in the magical world and the non-magical world are also adept with this skill, though it is instinct that drives them. Mad-eye Moody would be quite pleased to know of how quickly you honed your sharp senses. However, I feel the need to warn you that, while it truly is a gift, it can lead you into a false sense of security. Beware that those who share your gift will remain hidden from your senses, as you will remain hidden from theirs. I trust Harry and Neville are doing well._

_Headmaster of Hogwarts,_

A. Dumbledore 

As he finished reading out loud the thick parchment began to crumble in his hands and he dropped it to the floor as it turned into a pile of dust. He kicked the pile and scattered its remains.

"You're an aura interpreter?" Neville's shocked exclamation had Ron whirling in surprise. He had completely forgotten that Neville was in the room as he'd read it out loud. Now his friend was looking at him with an odd expression in his face, like he was trying to remember something important. He looked at Harry in horror at his slip and Harry shrugged at him, at a loss for what to do. They couldn't right deny it now that Ron had so stupidly read the letter out loud. Honestly, you'd think he was subconsciously trying to get other peoples attention.

"Umm, apparently." Ron answered, and Neville grinned suddenly, as if it was completely normal.

"Brilliant! I knew something was up with you, other then ambidextrous magic that is." He paused a moment in thought and then beamed at Ron as though he was the solution to a huge problem he was having. "You can warn me when Millecent from Ravenclaw is coming! That third year has been following me around since the beginning of term and it's right unnerving. It's also good to know that ol' Dumbledore can sense people around him without seeing them." Then Neville punched Ron on the arm rather painfully.

"Ow!" He complained and glared at his friend.

"That was for leaving me out of the loop." He explained. It was amazing how easily this boy could adapt and forgive. Then Harry got both their attentions after watching their encounter with amusement.

"Well, that answers for a lot about Dumbledore doesn't it? Now we know how he knows we're around when hidden under my invisibility cloak." Harry grinned, and then frowned, no doubt thinking of all the other times Dumbledore must have been aware of their presence. Bloody hell.

"I guess this explains why he was speaking to me this afternoon. He must have been investigating. What if he tells mum and dad!" Ron felt a bit of panic jump into his stomach and felt Neville look at him as though startled.

"You haven't told your parents about this?"

"I haven't been able to work it into a conversation yet." He groaned and sat on his bed. Harry laughed at him and went to finish changing as Neville decided that watering his various plants was more important than Ron's sudden panic. He didn't want his family finding out from Dumbledore, though he suspected the great wizard wouldn't say anything unless it was necessary. Now he just had to make sure that they knew before he had a run in with Mad-eye Moody. His mum would throw a fit if she didn't find out from him, and his dad would no doubt be upset at being left out. But still, despite this turn of events, it was a bit comforting that an adult (and by adult he meant an older individual that he looked up to, seeing as he considered himself and his friends adults now) knew and accepted it. It was kind of cool that he shared a skill with Dumbledore.

He changed quickly and climbed into bed, stretching out under the blankets. He could hear the rain outside their window as it pelted down heavily. It had started shortly after dinner and didn't show any sign of letting up soon. He fell asleep to its soothing rhythm, and didn't wake up until three in the morning, getting a good four and a half hours sleep and feeling energetic.

000

"Bloody hell." Ron muttered tiredly as he slumped under the tree with Harry and Hermione. Harry looked at his book bag, which was in a heap on the ground. It had been repaired with spells three times this week. They'd tried conjuring a new one, but after only two hours it dissolved into nothing and Ron was left picking up all his things and using his robe as a basket until he got back to his room. Harry had figured that if it was possible to conjure things into permanence, then Ron's family wouldn't want for anything in the first place, which was really too bad. Harry grinned, despite how miserable Ron appeared, and Hermione pet him soothingly on his leg. They had just finished their sixth year potions final.

"Don't worry Ron, I'm sure you did fine." Hermione comforted and Ron glared at her grumpily. They were all tired, drained and utterly exhausted. Though Ron did look better then they did at the moment, and Harry supposed that he could just hide his exhaustion that much better. It had been a gruelling two weeks of revising, practicing, and not sleeping as they prepared for all of their finals. Even Hagrid's examination had been more trying then normal, but Harry knew that none of them had any problems passing that one. Ron had been particularly worried about potions.

"Well, if I didn't do fine then I can kiss my career as an auror good bye." He grumpily glared at the ground. "Of course, I could always take remedial in the summer…I don't think Snape teaches that one!" He played with the grass at his feet and seemed to suddenly re-energize, despite his foul mood. He threw some grass at Hermione who swatted at him hopelessly and resorted to plucking the bits out of her jumper.

The weather was warm and sunny, but there was a cool breeze that was no doubt the last bit of spring holding on. Students of all age groups and houses were littered about the yard, some desperately cramming for their exam that afternoon, others playing various sports. Other older students were marching happily off into Hogsmeade to celebrate their end of examinations, since this was allowed on the last two days at school.

"You didn't fail Ron. You stayed up later then both of us these last three days and were awake earlier studying. If I didn't know better I'd say you hadn't slept at all, except that you wouldn't be so awake right now if that were the case." Ron looked away at that, suddenly finding the trees in the distance very interesting for a moment until he looked back and grinned.

"Well, whatever. At least now I don't have to think about studying again until after summer hols."

"Honestly Ron, you'd think it was painful to learn anything new the way you gripe about it." Hermione scoffed, and then pulled out a piece of parchment and leaning forward suddenly in earnest. "Listen though, I've found a new spell I think we ought to try, especially you Harry." Her voice dropped quietly and Ron pulled his wand out and discreetly muttered their garbling curse.

"What is it?" Harry asked in interest but Ron looked at her with worry, as was expected. Over the past few months he had been the practice target for a few of Hermione's spells, and while they hadn't been anything bad it was no doubt unnerving to be on the receiving end of any person's wand, even if you trusted them implicitly: Trust had no right to be incorporated with the words 'spell' and 'learning.'

"It's a bubble shield. I read about it last year but couldn't find the proper spell until last week. It's not typically used because of the amount of energy it requires from whoever casts it."

"A bubble shield? What is Harry gonna do with that, get soap in everyone's eyes?"

"Don't be daft, it has nothing to do with soap." Hermione brushed Ron off and looked hopefully at Harry. "It works like those shields that Kowalskelli has been teaching you to generate, but it can form all around an object, not just in front of it." Harry frowned. He was finding shields useful to learn, but they took a lot of energy to cast. He had been practicing them because, if cast correctly and with enough strength, they could deflect the unforgivable curses, such as avada kedavra. However, he doubted that a shield like that would be able to come close to blocking such a curse from Voldemort, he was simply too powerful. He hadn't been able to cast one nearly as strong as he would need it to be to block an average wizard and his teacher (though she tried not to show it) was rather discouraged. He supposed she expected more from the great Harry Potter he thought bitterly.

"Hermione, I don't really think it's going to make a huge difference…" he trailed off as she began to shake her head animatedly.

"It would Harry! Just think, if you could put yourself into a bubble shield you wouldn't need to worry about anyone attacking you from any side!" Ron seemed to suddenly like this idea as he pursed his lips in thought.

"Can it surround others as well? Like a cage?" Hermione beamed at him.

"Yes. It can act as a barrier to spells, but also to people. What's trapped in can't get out and vice versa." Harry was seeing the logic behind this, though he doubted very much if it would be useful at all when needed. It would take loads more energy to conjure, at least as much as a full fledged patronous, and that sapped him of a great deal of magical energy. Yet, with Hermione looking at him so encouragingly, trying to help him as best she could to prepare for his battle, he couldn't turn her down.

"All right, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to try. But not here, let's go somewhere a bit more private."

"Hagrid's?" Ron suggested and they all headed over there promptly. The half giant wasn't home, but they sat comfortably at a picnic table he had set up outside his yard. There were several gardening tools leaning against it.

"Okay." Hermione demanded their attention when she finished tying her hair back, as she sometimes preferred to do when working with new material. "Harry, it is a very slight change in wording from what your normal shield requires. That's actually how I determined where to find the spell, you see-"

"Hermione, just tell us the spell already, we already know you were clever enough to figure it out in the first place." Ron cut her off, halting her no doubt long winded version of discovery. She glared at him but continued with the spell anyway. Sometimes, if Ron wasn't around to cut her off, Harry was sure she'd go on for hours about her research methods. Harry normally just didn't have the heart to be so rude, and fortunately Ron and Hermione had gotten over getting truly mad at each other in their fifth year.

"Fine. Harry, the spell you use is _Bufferso_ right?" He nodded in agreement. "The bubble shield spell is almost the same, but it's pronounced _Buffersuro._" He nodded, taking it in as Ron read her notes on the subject. It made sense, a lot of spells could be altered with only two new letters, rendering them slightly changed or completely different depending on what they were. Of course, that was a whole other area of study.

"It says here the wand work is different too." Ron piped in and looked up. "Show us your normal shield Harry." He demanded more then asked and Harry stood, reluctantly.

"I'm warning you two, it's a dodgy spell for me to cast."

"Quit with the excuses and do it already." Ron ordered again, but there was a twinkle in his eye that had Harry rolling his own in response.

"Yes sir, whatever you say sir, I'll get right on it sir."

"Good boy." Harry resisted the urge to throw his wand at his insufferable friend, but his engrained need to have it with him at all times prevented him from doing so. He took a breath and held his wand out, flicking his wrist sharply. "Bufferso" he ordered and a burgundy stream of light flew from the end of his wand until, ten feet away, it halted in the air and spread out in a circle a meter in diameter. It shimmered as he held it there, completely transparent. It looked as though it would shatter if a mere bird flew into it. Then he lowered his wand and it disappeared in a small, unremarkable poof of red dust. He looked at where it had been for a moment, feeling the drain it caused on his magic. It had been the biggest shield he'd produced yet.

"That was excellent Harry! You've got to teach me that!" Ron enthused as he headed over to him. Harry didn't know where he got his energy from, he was utterly exhausted from their finals and Ron was practically bouncing. He wondered if his extra sense gave him extra energy.

"That was really good Harry. Now, the book said that when you cast the bubble shield, you need to flick your wand in a circle, but how big you wave it, and how you point it has everything to do with where it forms and how large it is. I guessed that it went something like this." She demonstrated and he watched closely. Then all three of them proceeded to practice this new spell. They must have been at it for a good hour, Ron was getting the hang of the wrist action and was getting a wisp of blue from the tip of his wand, but that was it. Hermione's was a very deep green, and she was just starting to get a decent amount from her wand to form a basic shield when Harry, feeling completely exhausted, managed to create a bubble the size of a bludger. It floated in the air only a meter from his reach, and he was staring at it. He dropped his wand and it remained, floating there.

"You did it!" Hermione exclaimed happily and Ron grinned for a moment before picking up a rock and throwing it at it. It bounced off and the orb shimmered in retaliation. He threw another one and it shimmered, then disappeared with a pop. Harry frowned. It wasn't very strong, but at least he understood the basics of the spell now. He turned to Find Hermione yelling at Ron for throwing things at it.

"What! It has to be tested!" Ron defended, though he did look a bit guilty, until he tilted his head slightly and looked like he was listening for something. "Hagrid's coming." He said and sure enough, a moment later their friend came around from the back of his house, whistling a jaunty tune and not looking at all like he'd been testing students all morning. He stopped in surprise at seeing them and then grinned happily.

"Allo Harry, 'Ermione, Ron. Enjoying a bit o' sun before yer last test then eh? Though I s'pose you three have nothin' te worry about, being the top in yer class as I hear." His grin seemed to become even bigger, though with his beard in the way it was hard for Harry to really tell. He usually went by the crinkle around his friends eyes. He noticed Harmione suddenly looked horrified with herself as she began pushing her notes back in her bag.

"Oh! How could I forget that the exam is so soon! I can't believe we've spent the last hour…talking!" All three men raised their eyebrows in astonishment at her outburst. She must have been waiting for a while to try that new spell if she actually 'forgot' about their last exam! That was so un-Hermione like that Harry was a bit worried. They were all run down lately, but still… "We need to go study, right now!" She looked as though the simple hour away from studying was going to get her expelled from school.

"Hermione, we know it all backwards to front already. Honestly, yer a few chips short of a meal if you think you need to study." Ron said incredulously. This was the first time the three of them had ever all been this ready for a test. She glared at them, their previous practice session at the back of her mind now.

"If you two want to risk not doing well then fine, but I am not going to waste another minute! I'll see you all later." And she hurried off back to the castle, her bushy pony tail bouncing along with her.

"Honestly, she's mad. Why waste a perfectly good afternoon revising when you already know it all." Ron huffed. Harry just shrugged his shoulders. Hermione would be Hermione. Suddenly Harry's exhaustion hit him full on and he looked at Ron, who seemed to be on his last legs as well.

"You two look like ye need to sleep fer a year." Hagrid charitably pointed out and Harry agreed. They trudged back to their dorm room and fell into bed. They would get a few hours rest, revise a bit to be safe, and then get a good nights sleep. Tomorrow would be a long day, what with the end of exams, a trip to Hogsmeade and the closing ceremonies. He wanted to be full of energy.

000

"Squidpeks! She used squidpeks! Of all the creatures to cast deflector spells against she chose squidpeks!" Ron was raving off to Hermione's right and Harry was on her left. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him, because such a response could be deemed immature. "It was bloody brilliant!" Ron grinned and then he suddenly started searching through his robes pockets distractedly. Harry was grinning beside her and she met his green eyes with a laugh of her own. Kawolskelli was a good teacher, and she liked throwing twists into her tests. The squidpeks had been a surprise, though if one was prepared properly they weren't a problem at all.

"Malfoy's hair will be blue for a week." Harry happily sang and Hermione laughed. The look of surprise on his face when Goyle had sent his own squidpek (accidentally of course) flying into the back of the Slytherin had been priceless. Draco had been far from amused as he tried to wipe the dye from his face with dignity. "Watcha doin there Ron?"

"I'm just looking for…wait a sec…ah yes, here it is." He pulled a dark blue envelop from his pocket and grinned evilly as he looked it over. "I was afraid it might have been damaged during our exam." Hermione instantly knew that it was some kind of prank from the way he smiled. His lips quirked just slightly higher on the right and he got a glint in his eye that was identical to his twin brothers. She took a step closer to Harry just incase it decided to blow up with her so close by, but she couldn't help the familiar rise of excitement at being let in on a prank. They trusted her with so much, but still tended to leave her out of some of their jokes, simply because she tried to stop them every time. Not this time though. They all deserved to have a little fun after that gruelling term.

"What is it?" She tried to make her voice sound more sceptical than curious, but knew she hadn't quite pulled it off when Harry nudged her closer to Ron.

"Take a closer look Hermie."

"No thank you, I rather like myself the way I am." She glared at him.

"No worries It only explodes once opened." Ron informed her gravely and then grinned at her sudden worry. Really, that was just dangerous! "Relax Hermione, it's completely harmless. Seamus helped me rig it up, and I got some dried squidpek dye from Pomfrey and put it in here. It's to get Fred and George back for all those ridiculous letters they send me!"

"Ron! You really shouldn't stoop to their level! If you retaliate then they are going to come back twice as hard."

"It's all about the sport of it." He grinned proudly and let Harry examine it, passing it off in front of her. Now she stood closer to Ron, just in case.

"You didn't seem too happy about that last one they sent you. Where was your sportsmanship then?" He looked at her, horrified!

"Hermione! It turned into a spider and landed on my breakfast! If that doesn't deserve retaliation than nothing will! The ink will wash off after three days, and besides, if they like it they might want to market it in their shop, and I'll be able to sign some agreement with them and maybe make a bit of money. So it's not just sport, it's a demonstration of a business proposal."

"I suppose I'm not the one who has to live with them this summer." The spider thing had set Ron off his food for the rest of the day, and really, she hated to see her friends upset about something. Harry handed the envelop back and then stopped as Ron ducked into the owlry. She supposed he didn't want to send Pig because he was afraid they'd retaliate on his owl (and this way they could pay for the delivery). She took a seat beside Harry and he smiled at her.

It was really a lovely afternoon, if a bit wet from the rain the previous night. The people of Hogsmeade bustled about their business and every now and then a student from Hogwarts would wave a quick hello. She hadn't been here in a month, choosing to stay at the school with Harry and Ron, and it was nice to be around a mixed age group again. She loved her school, but the students could be so immature that it sometimes came close to driving her nuts. Adults were so much more practical. She noticed a wizard and witch pause across the street and look in their direction briefly before grinning and talking animatedly to each other. They had just spotted Harry. She glared at them but they didn't notice as they bustled off excitedly. Okay, so maybe not all adults were mature. Harry sighed beside her but didn't comment. They were all so tired of everyone reacting this way to him.

"Let's go then. I do believe Harry owes me several butterbeers." Ron called as he practically burst through the owlry's doors. She looked up at him as he waited, all six feet of him. He'd been so…energetic lately. She let him pull her to her feet and laughed as he completely ignored Harry, who was batting his eyes and holding his hand out for help.

"You tricked me into that bet! I don't owe you anything." Harry argued as he joined them and they began walking down the street.

"You agreed to the bet, fair and square. Neville will back me up."

"I'd just woken up! I hadn't even registered it was morning yet when you had me agreeing to it."

"Then you'll just have to work on that alertness of yours. Honestly Harry, we've been best friends for six years, you'd think you'd know when to not answer my questions by now." Ah, so Ron had tricked Harry into the bet. Harry had been grumbling about it since the end of their victorious match against Slytherin, though good naturedly.

"I do know that you used to sleep in later then everyone else and now you're the first up every morning. It's not fair really, you're changing the rules of engagement."

"It's all about adapting. Isn't it Hermione?" He turned his pleading blue eyes on her and she couldn't refuse answering his gaze. Really, she was becoming so soft around these two it was a wonder she hadn't turned sticky.

"Survival of the fittest, as Darwin proclaimed. Although-"

"See, the fittest, who is obviously me in this instance." Ron cut her off before she could continue and for once she didn't feel like barking back at him. The sun was out, there was a pleasant breeze and she was with her boys, celebrating the end of another year. This summer might be the worst yet, so she was determined to enjoy her time with them now as much as she could. Oh, now Harry was looking at her in mock betrayal and she could only smile back.

"Hermione, what time is it?" Ron suddenly asked and she looked at him piercingly. His tone had been sharp and he'd become stiff beside her, walking with a sudden tenseness that oozed from him. She quickly glanced at her watch.

"Two thirty-nine. Why?" She demanded and Harry was watching them carefully. Ron had tilted his head, as he always did when he was feeling something with his sense. She felt her stomach knot in apprehension as his face seemed to pale and he looked over at her and Harry grimly. Ron never looked like this unless something was really wrong.

"They're early. Arm yourselves." Without question, ignoring Harry's sharp intake of breath and Ron's suddenly darting eyes, she pulled her wand.

**TBC**

Comments are lovely! I especially appreciate each and every one I've gotten so far. Thanks guys!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes:** well, by now I'm sure all you lucky folks have read the Half-blood Prince. I still need to finish this story before I even pick it up! Despite all your excitement about the newest, greatest book, please don't forget this story ;) I worked hard :) lol, enjoy and thank you for the wonderful comments!

**Chapter 7**

The second Ron asked Hermione for the time with that commanding tone of his, Harry knew something was seriously wrong. Hermione answered without hesitation and Harry was already reaching for his wand, suddenly sensing a shift in the atmosphere as the crowd around them went on their business. Neville and Ginny were across the street, heading over to join them and there was a baby crying somewhere off to their right.

"They're early. Arm yourselves." With those words Harry prepared himself for the battle of his life, pulled his wand from his pocket and held it at the ready. He heard startled gasps from those around him as the three of them were suddenly armed and moving so their backs were to each other, an automatic response. Honestly, they were doing this way too often. He looked at Neville who, he vaguely noted, had his wand pulled the instant he saw their actions.

"Neville! Warn everyone! Ginny! Get Dumbledore Now!" He commanded sharply and they shot into action without question. A sharp pain erupted in his forehead but he ignored it even as it threatened his vision for a moment. He could feel Hermione shaking beside him and Ron was still as a mountain. The people around him began yelling in alarm and pulling their own wands as they tried to get away and get their children to safety. They were not auror's, but they were unwilling to not protect themselves even though they had no real idea what was going on.

"Harry! In front of you!" Ron barked sharply and even though all he could see was a mother pushing two little boys into the building directly across from him, he whipped his wand around and yelled "_Stupefy!_" The mother whirled around and glared at him in shock and fear, until a something splashed into the puddle between them and an invisibility cloak pulled half off, revealing a black cloaked body beneath it.

"Death Eaters!" She screamed and, if there wasn't a panic before, the street erupted.

"Sneaky bastards!" Ron hollered beside him but Harry was too busy searching desperately for more hidden attackers. They could be anywhere. _"Expelliarmus! Stupefy!"_ Ron yelled and suddenly a wand whipped out of nowhere and another death eater was revealed as he fell to the ground. Ron snapped the wand and tossed it harshly, concentrating for another attacker. "Hermione! The broom rack!"

"_Petrificus totalus!"_ She yelled and another death eater fell. Three so far, who knew how many there were. Harry felt Ron jerk beside him suddenly but didn't look, he couldn't afford to at that moment.

"Harry! Where are they?" Neville was suddenly yelling across the lane and Harry couldn't answer, because only Ron really knew. They had been walking into an ambush. If his friend hadn't sensed them just before then they may have all been dead by now. He shuddered but yelled back to Neville, Ginny had just disappeared around the corner to race back to school. She had stolen a broom from the rack on her way.

"Invisibility cloaks!" He roared over the din, was that his voice? Neville swore loudly and pushed a second year into the door beside him, not noticing how the girl went flying inside. He pointed his wand at the door and sealed it tight.

"They're everywhere!" Ron bellowed and then suddenly the three of them went flying in different directions, Harry impacting hard with the ground ten feet away. He gingerly picked himself up, ignoring the mud now coating him. His friends were also standing and Ron shouted out two more curses, missing both his targets apparently and he dove away from a large rock that went hurtling at him, crashing into a waste bin behind. Suddenly the invisibility cloaks were being removed hastily as the Death Eaters, coming to grips with the fact that they had been discovered, decided to take a more active attack. You couldn't fight properly while hidden, and it seemed that, somehow, Harry and his friends knew where they were. Thank Merlin they didn't think long enough to realize that Harry and Hermione actually had absolutely no idea.

A face he didn't recognize appeared to his right and pointed a wand at him and yelled _stupefy_ at the same time Harry yelled the _protego_ charm. He instantly swore at himself as the curse was luckily deflected, because if that had been an unforgivable Harry would have been a goner. "Silencio! Accio wand!" the Death Eater was rendered speechless and Harry snapped the wand the second it landed in his hand. The man's eyes lit in a sudden rage and he started charging towards Harry like an angry bull Harry didn't have time to shout out a hex. Just as he was about to be hit the Death Eater flew sideways and smashed into the wall of _Margaret Magnolia's_, the local live flower shop. He slumped to the ground and didn't move, Harry twisted to see Ron turning away and running towards Luna Lovegood, who had been hit with a binding spell. There were still pedestrians running in the street, though a few were stopping to help attack the Death Eaters. There were dark cloaks everywhere.

Fear clouded around him at the same time the adrenalin ran through him. He didn't have a bloody clue what to do, despite the fact that everyone thought he would know when the time came. He drove his shoulder into the back of a witch about to attack Hermione and she went flying, but before he could throw a curse to further render her useless another witch appeared and pointed her wand.

"Impedimenta!" She screeched in a voice five octaves higher then was natural. Harry cringed at the sound even as he went flying through the air once again. He hit hard, smacking his head off a lamppost as he slid to a stop. He lay on his back, head leaning against the post, dazed a moment as she approached. They were throwing stalling curses at him, not trying to kill him. Suddenly it occurred that they wanted him kept alive, at least for now, and that meant that Voldemort himself might be on his way, or even now lurking in the back ground, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. Coward! Anger flooded through Harry, a hot rage that he hadn't felt since Sirius had fallen out of this life. He glared at her approach and she stopped, as though momentarily startled by his harsh look of hatred. He didn't give her time to recover.

"_Hocus totalo_!" She screeched as her wand began to burn, red hot and she threw it to the ground in horror as it burst into flames and then combusted into a pile of ash. He glared at her. _Hocus totalo_, a spell McGonagall had taught him just last week, was one step from being placed on the unforgivable curse list. Destroying ones wand was a very serious spell and only certain professions allowed for wizards to use it. Since she taught it to him, he didn't think she would mind him using it now. This was the first time he had managed to pull it off though; it normally didn't even work against a child's study wand. She pulled back in alarm and sudden fear as he stepped towards her, and then she retreated, running off into the fighting crowd, away from him.

Watching where the witch had disappeared to Harry suddenly saw a familiar cat running at the group, and aiming for a particular wizard who was pointing a wand at a cluster of fifth years from Hufflepuff. The cat leapt into the air, claws and teeth bared as it hissed, and just as it was about to hit it transformed into McGonagall and she slammed into the evil being with all her tiny weight and large ferocity. She rolled to her feet and had her wand disarming him even as he still lay in utter shock as to where she came from. Her robes whipped around her as she twisted and dove into the fray, not taking a moment to think and just acting. Then, perhaps the most shocking thing to happen so far, Draco Malfoy burst around a corner and conjured a cobra, which latched on to the nearest Death eater and held tight as the man screamed and frantically tried to tear it away. Would wonders never cease?

Seamus and Dean burst out of Honeydukes across the street, looking as though everyone inside had been doing their damndest to keep the two young men in there. They pointed their wands as one at a rather large and bulky attacker, and a moment later the Death Eater was tumbling like a giant to the ground as though his entire body had suddenly become boneless. A wizard Harry didn't know fell to the ground, clutching his chest and screaming painfully. Harry turned away, looking to help anyone. Hermione was lost somewhere in the crowd, but as he turned he saw Ron picking himself off the ground, a far ways down the street and separated from the main fight. His heart froze in terror. Ron didn't have his wand, and he wasn't even trying to look for it as a Death Eater, Lucius Malfoy (how the bloody hell did he get out!) advanced menacingly on him. There was a sick and twisted grin on his features, as though he had been waiting a long time to attack Ron, years in fact. Harry bolted for his friend, but he knew he was to far away to help him.

000

Ron stumbled as he backed away from the half crazy man approaching him. Malfoy, bloody Lucius Malfoy! Of all the slimy, barmy, ugly arse pure-blooded gits to be here it was him. And he looked as though he'd just arrived fresh for a business meeting! How the bloody hell had he escaped Azkaban without them hearing about it! He was going to have a talk with that Cornelius Fudge when this battle was over, and Fudge was not going to simply walk away if he knew anything about this and failed to tell Dumbledore! Then again, if Dumbledore had known and had decided not to tell them…that was a whole other fight to be had!

However, now that the mad wizard in question was approaching him, grinning as if he had won the quidditch cup, Ron decided he'd plan his future fights in the future. He stumbled back, trying to get away from the wand pointed directly at his chest. He'd lost his wand as he had been sent flying through the air and landed where he was now. His shoulder was screaming at him and he felt his knees shake as though he would collapse any minute. He had stopped thinking clearly after he had been thrown from his tight protective huddle with Harry and Hermione, the confusion, the adrenalin, the fear, and his need to protect his best friend overwhelming his normal sense. He didn't stop to think of strategy, he just threw himself into the fight. And now he was wandless, facing his family's greatest personal enemy, who was cracked in the head.

"I've been looking to kill a Weasley for a long time." Malfoy grinned and Ron glared at him. He felt the evil in his aura as it approached, and it almost made him sick to his stomach. All the Death Eaters felt this way when they were really close to him; like a disease that was searching to infect. It made him feel dirty and, in a way he chose not to dwell on, violated. Their auras were digging into his being and he couldn't get away from their hate.

"You'd better keep looking then!" He rasped, not at all happy with how shaky his voice came out. Malfoy laughed, looked over Ron's shoulder and grinned even wider. Then he squared his shoulders, preparing to throw his curse and Ron reacted instinctually. He held his hand out and, without thought, summoned a rock from the ground. It flew into his hand so hard it would leave a bruise, and his fingers curled reflexively around it.

"_Avada_" Malfoy sneered the beginning of his curse as Ron threw his last weapon "_Kedavra!_" The rock smashed into his face and his wand jerked at the last second, sending the death curse harmlessly into the air as the man stumbled backwards and fell to the ground, unconscious. Ron twisted violently to look behind him and fell to the ground as a tall figure stood not ten feet away. He could see the gaunt, pale, snakelike face easily and he gasped. The red eyes were lit upon him, intense as they stared, like dead blood.

"Voldemort." He hissed feeling a rock digging into his hand as he scrambled back a bit. He saw the slit nose of the creature before him flare, as though smelling him. So many emotions suddenly erupted within him, fear, anger, loathing, terror, and a hate so deep he didn't know he was capable of holding it. He scuttled off to his left and Voldemort seemed to slither around him, maintaining the distance. It was all happening so fast. Now he could see Harry forcing his way through the crowd, but he was still so far away. Good, because Ron really didn't want him anywhere near this thing. He jumped to his feet and glared.

"What have we got here?" It didn't sound like a question as the dark lord stared with steady, intelligent eyes tinged with madness. Ron raised his arm and pointed it at the creature. He could try and end this now, here, and spare Harry the pain of this final battle. He saw the dark lord jerk, almost unnoticeably, and then he felt a burning travel through his hand, up his arm and into his body as though his blood had turned to ice. Instantly cried out and clutched his arm, his last bit of resistance, to his chest as he was overwhelmed with the evil of the creature before him. It filled him and he choked on it as he fell again. There was an incredible urge to throw up, pass out and explode all at once before Ron was able to force the vile energies from his body. He sent it, unthinkingly, into the earth, where it would spread, be consumed, and cease to exist, eaten by the positive energies of the earth that Hogsmeade rested upon. He sobbed in relief as it left him and looked up to see Voldemort staring at him, unable to hide his sudden sick interest.

"A chaneller." He hissed, the sound meant only for Ron's ears and Ron flinched. He recoiled as his enemy took a step towards him and tried to raise his arm again, but it refused to follow his command. He had to try and stop him, but his body refused to allow him to attack, to drain his enemy of his power. He knew, instinctively, that if he did he would die, he wasn't…he couldn't…his body refused to try and steal Voldemort's energy, but he managed to raise his left arm threateningly. Voldemort hissed a hex and suddenly Ron was tumbling forward from his kneeling position, his left arm stretched out and his right arm huddled to his chest, still aching. Voldemort wouldn't kill him now; he had discovered that Ron was something worth keeping. Ron wanted to scream in panic and revulsion. He couldn't move: he had been stupefied. He could see the battling group to his left and Voldemort in front of him, and suddenly a familiar shoe and a familiar robe was standing over him.

"No!" Harry snarled, and Ron felt such relief at his friend's appearance that he was ashamed. He was glad Harry had shown up, but now Harry might die. He struggled to move but was frozen in place, trapped and useless. Harry's voice, as cold as Ron felt, carried out above him. "You will not hurt him." He ordered, and it was absurd really, because only Harry would think he could get away with ordering Voldemort around.

"No, not now, I'll save that for later." The snake like voice hissed. "You, however, will no longer be around to worry about it, and nor will your friends." Ron looked with his eyes at the group that seemed so far away. Many Death Eaters had been felled, but there were still scores of them closing in around a large group of people, who were struggling to fight them off. Hermione was in that group…and so was Ginny! He couldn't do anything! Harry's feet suddenly facing the opposite direction as he did the stupidest and, perhaps, the bravest thing he could have ever done. He turned his back on Voldemort and aimed his wand at the group.

"_Buffersuro!_" He howled, and a burst of magenta sped from the tip of his wand and into the swelling crowd. A large, transparent, magenta sphere encased all the people surrounded by the Death Eaters, swallowing them in its protective cocoon. Many looked at it, startled, but Ron saw that Hermione had completely dropped her guard and was staring at Harry and him, fear etched into her face and tears beginning to well in her eyes. The Death Eaters were throwing all sorts of hexes at it, but it held with ease, absorbing the dangerous spells. For a moment Harry staggered above him before regaining his footing and turning to face Voldemort again, who was smiling cruelly.

"And now, Harry Potter, you will cease to exist." He had tricked Harry into using his energy to save his friends. Ron wanted to scream, but he could only produce a slight gurgle as Voldemort raised his wand pitilessly and pointed it at Harry. "AVADA KADAVRA!"

"LUMINOSALLA!" Harry bellowed, the fury in his voice matching that of Voldemort's and two piercing jets of power met in mid air, crashing terrifyingly. Ron couldn't see Harry, but he could see the where his red magic fought with Voldemort's green magic. It was like the battle he fought when Cedric had died. Wand pitted against wand (as Harry had described it to him), and it was power and need, desperation, hunger, and will that fought. Harry shifted on his feet as Voldemort roared, and Ron could hear his friends struggle, hear each gasp of breath he fought to take while not breaking his concentration. Ron could feel the magic, dark and light, flowing around him in waves. Harry gasped, and then growled as he pushed Voldemort back a step, only to cry out as Voldemort fought back and came two steps closer.

Harry had given too much energy to save the people behind them, and Voldemort was full of strength. It was an unfair battle. Ron felt the tears sliding down his cheeks as he struggled to move, to help Harry somehow. The prophecy, it had stated that only Harry could defeat Voldemort, and one of them had to die. It didn't say he couldn't have help.

Ron's arm was stretched out, almost touching Harry's leg as his best friends cloak trembled over his arm and hid his hand from view. That was it! Between the fear and hatred and hope Ron felt an irresistible need to touch Harry, touch his skin! If he could do that, he could help him. He didn't know how, and he didn't care, he just needed to touch him. He felt a jolt as Voldemort threw more energy into his attack, and he saw Hermione crying silently in the distance with Neville gripping her shoulder tightly and Luna Lovegood hugging Ginny as they all watched. Some of the Death Eaters were still trying to get them, but most had stopped to watch this final battle unfold in its last moments.

Harry! His mind screamed in anguish and he could feel the pain coming from his friend as that evil attacked him relentlessly. He sobbed, feeling his throat tighten. He needed to touch! And suddenly Harry shifted, slightly, and Ron could feel his sock on his knuckle. He was there! He would help. He concentrated all his energy on that finger and he felt it twitch, after who knew how much time had passed. His finger moved and he stretched it out, finding the top of the sock only millimetres from where his finger had rested. Help Harry! Harry needed strength! Ron didn't know what he was doing, but he willed all of his strength into Harry, and then he welcomed the blackness that rushed up and captured him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

He felt as though he was trapped inside a giant sponge. He could hear voices, muffled, so far away that they may have even been the first rumbles of thunder in a storm. He could feel warmth enveloping all of his limbs but he couldn't move an inch because the sponge held him still. He could breath, but the air seemed heavy to him. The rumbling thunder became louder though, the longer he focused on it, until it was suddenly a voice, and it was so very close.

"Ron…" he didn't feel like listening right now. He would come back later.

000

"Never knew watching somebody sleep could be so bloody draining." The voice sounded more tired then annoyed as it filtered into his mind. He knew that voice. That was George.

"Watching you do anything is this bloody draining." Another tired voice retorted, and he recognized that as Fred. What were they watching he wondered, but then a third voice entered the room, and it sounded like his Dad. _Dad? Would you tell the twins to sod off before they wake me up properly!_ You'd think they'd be off running their shop instead of bothering him right now. But his dad didn't seem to mind that they were there.

"Any change?"

"He's still out. Hasn't even twitched in the last three hours." George was quiet, there was a tinge of worry in his voice, despite the fact that he tried to hide it. That wasn't like him, he and Fred hardly ever let anything bother them, let alone actually worry them.

"You look like you could use a nap."

"I feel like I've been leached of all energy." George stated, as though it were unusual.

"We all do after we watch him too long. The doctor says it's because of the stress of waiting."

"I've waited for people to wake up before-"

"-and it's never been this tiring." They stated. Ron frowned. If they were that tired, then they should leave and give him some peace and quiet then. They could watch whoever it was they wanted to later.

"I know." His dad sounded absolutely knackered, poor bloke. "You guys should go check your store. Mum'll be by and we'll stay with him for a while. Harry's up for company now, so stop and say hello on your way out."

"Right then. Come on Fred." There was some shuffling, something pressed against his forehead, and then blessed silence. Finally he could sleep again."

000

Something was holding his hand, and it was making it warm. He frowned as he tried to figure out what it was, but he wasn't getting any answers. He felt heavy blankets across his chest and legs, pinning him in place, and he was instantly annoyed. He never slept with the blankets tucked in! Then he realized he wasn't sure where he was, and the thing holding his hand was moving now, almost tickling him. _Stop it,_ he ordered, but it kept tickling him. Fine, he'd have to order it to stop properly. He summoned his strength, feeling as though he hadn't had nearly enough sleep, and went to forcefully tell it to go away.

"Sopit." He mumbled, somewhat amused and embarrassed that his voice sounded so pathetic. But the movement suddenly froze, so he supposed it was enough.

"Ron?" Oh, it was Ginny, and she sounded so hopeful that he couldn't not agree with her.

"Tha's me." He said. His throat felt so dry, was that really his voice? Why couldn't he see her though? Was it night or something, and why was she holding his hand? That was a bit peculiar.

"Oh, Merlin! MOOOOM!" She suddenly hollered and he forced his eyes open in surprise, staring at her in shock.

"Shhh, 's not bloody murder." He tried to sound disapproving but noticed that his voice really wasn't cooperating with him all that much. Ah, there she was. Ginny was staring at him with tears in her wide blue eyes. That wasn't right though, because a girl as pretty as his sister should never cry. He squeezed her hand in reassurance, trying to get her to feel better and the tears just started to fall. Suddenly he was worried. "Sokay Gin, don't cry." He tried to comfort her and she threw herself into his arms, hugging his shoulders and sobbing away. He wanted to hug her back, but she had pinned his arms to his sides, so instead he looked around.

His vision was a bit fuzzy about the edges, but he could see his sister's bright red hair, and a window with a plant, and then under it was…a lot of plants. Odd, but he supposed they looked pretty. Then there were some chairs and another bed across the way where a wizard he didn't know sat, grinning at him inanely. He felt his eyebrows raise in response but before he could ask he heard a commotion off to the other side of the room and saw his mum burst in, closely followed by his dad. Oh good.

"Mum, get her off." He demanded and felt, rather then heard, Ginny laugh. However, upon entering the room and looking at him his mom had cried out happily and tears were suddenly falling down her cheeks as she rushed to his bed and joined in the suffocating hug. Red hair now completely blocked his vision. Fer cryin' out loud, he just didn't have the energy to make them stop.

"Molly, Ginny, give him room to breath you two!" Thank you Dad! He couldn't help grinning as they pulled away; they looked a right mess with tears running down their face and their hair all over the place. His dad suddenly leaned into the picture and gave him a big kiss on his forehead and now he was beginning to wonder what was going on, because the last time his dad had done that had been when he'd been knocked unconscious by a bludger, when he was seven years old. He was almost seventeen now!

"Ron," His dad's eye looked suspiciously bright, "how are you feeling?" Well, he hadn't really had time to assess that yet, so he just answered with the first thought that came to mind.

"Fine." He coughed and suddenly there was a straw sitting on his lips. He greedily sucked on it and relished the water that wet his throat. He was so thirsty, he realized, but didn't complain when the drink was taken away. His throat felt one hundred times

better now. He looked at his family and smiled, because they really looked like they could use it, and his mum started fussing over his bed sheets, tucking him in even more.

"What happened?" He asked, looking around. He figured he was in a hospital, and since it wasn't Hogwarts it was probably St. Mungo's. His dad suddenly looked worried.

"You don't remember?"

"Haven't tried to remember yet." He muttered and tried to think back. Exams, ughh, who wanted to remember those. Hogsmeade, the owlry, the sudden appearance of Death Eaters. His eyes went wide. How could he forget that Voldemort attacked!

"Voldemort! He! Harry! Where's Harry, and Hermione!" He remembered, Harry had been in so much pain and Ron had just been laying there stupidly. He looked at his Mum and Dad who were smiling at him happily.

"They're fine dear. Harry and Hermione are just fine! Harry's been on his feet for two days now! We've just been waiting for you to wake up." Tears sprung to his mum's eyes again and his father put a consoling arm around her shoulder.

"Ginny, why don't you go and tell Harry the good news, then get the doctor and let you're brothers and Hermione know that Ron's awake." She nodded and hurried out of the room and Ron frowned.

"How long have I been out of it?"

"Eight days."

"Eight bloody days!" He was feeling his energy come back to him the longer he was awake, and he was beginning to notice how sore his entire body was. All of his muscles felt like he had just wrestled Norbert and lost. "No wonder you all look so tired." He went to sit up and the bed moved with him magically, supporting his weight. And then it hit him, and he really heard what his mum had just told him. "Mum! Harry's fine!" She nodded, her grin broadening as he stared at her in astonishment. "Harry's fine! That means Voldemort is dead!" She nodded and his Dad was grinning stupidly beside her and that wizard he didn't know across the room was giving him the thumbs up sign and then Harry burst into the room at a full run and out of breath.

"RON!" He yelled.

"HARRY!" and his best friend was throwing his arms around him and Ron was holding on for all he was worth, dragging him bodily onto his bed and his parents were smiling and crying and everything was happening so fast! "Harry! He's dead! You did it!" Harry pulled back and his vividly green eyes sparkled with happiness.

"We did it Ron! We beat him! He's never coming back again!" Ron looked deep into his friend's eyes and then pulled him close for another hug, smelling the hospital shampoo in his hair and feeling his arms around him.

"Harry, you're free." He whispered and Harry hugged him tighter, hugged him for all he was worth, and then he pulled back and ruffled Ron's hair, and Ron looked at his forehead, reaching out and brushing the hair aside. The lightening bolt scar that had plagued Harry for his whole life was still there, but it had become a mere shadow of the one that stood out before. He pressed his fingers to the forehead in wonder, and then grinned in a way that he knew must have been stupid.

"I guess you can cut your hair now." He commented and his Dad laughed, reaching over and ruffling Harry's hair in response, but it wasn't him who spoke next.

"Harry without an unruly mane!"

"He wouldn't be Harry anymore!"

"It would be like taking his last name from him!"

"Or his magic!"

"It just wouldn't work,"

"So you can put those scissors away Mum." Fred and George suddenly pushed past his parents and squeezed around the bed, eyes suspiciously bright as they piled on and attacked Ron with hugs of their own, managing to maul a laughing Harry along the way. Ron couldn't remember the last time he felt this good, despite still feeling a little tired. Everyone was smiling and there was absolutely no fear, no worry, in any of their eyes. The war was over! It was finally over.

"I must have missed one hell of a party." Ron muttered.

"Nah, we decided to wait until you could join us." Hermione appeared by his head and squealed as she grabbed at him and pulled him into a hug. Fred looked like he was about to topple off the bed when Arthur pulled out his wand and waved an enlargement spell. Hermione and Ginny were climbing on top and bouncing in happiness and then suddenly Bill appeared, pony tail and all, and was on the bed as well, flattening his brothers to give Ron a solid hug and an affectionate pat to the head. Charlie was next, though he didn't quite jump onto the bed as his brothers had before him. He grinned at Ron as though it was Christmas again, reaching through everyone and grasping Ron's hands in an almost crushing grip (he would have liked to hug his little brother, but the throng of bodies between them made the task rather difficult).

"Glad you're okay little brother." He said and then they all quieted down suddenly. Ron looked to where his mum and dad were standing, to see Percy beside his bed now, looking at him with relief and nervousness and a whole slew of emotions that Ron didn't quite know how to understand.

"Ron. It's good to see that you're better." He held out his hand and Ron looked at it a moment in wonder, then looked up into Percy's eyes as the room seemed to hold his breath. He hadn't spoken to Percy in a long time, even though he knew his brother had begun talking to his parents again almost half a year ago. He had never seen Percy look quite so disheveled, he must have run the entire way from the hospitals floo station.

"Percy, brothers don't shake hands." He said as he reached out and grabbed his wrist. Percy looked startled. "Brothers gotta hug." He yanked his brother close and Percy wrapped his arms around him, trying to convey so many apologies in that one gesture. Ron soaked it up, because it was Percy, and he didn't know the next time he'd get a chance to hug him. Everyone started talking at once then as Ron let his brother go, and watched in amusement as he started to brush his robes out and struggled to regain his propriety.

"Oh Ron, we were so worried!"

"Good on you mate! We heard all about how you pegged that slimy Malfoy with a rock!"

"He's gonna have that bruise for the rest of his life!"

"Did you see Harry's _Buffersuro_!"

"Bloody Brilliant! It took five hours to wear off!"

"What about Hermione making those three dirt eaters dance uncontrollably!"

"Best routine Hogsmeade has seen in years!" The door suddenly flew open and the group looked over at the intruder as one. Cornelius Fudge beamed at them all, his cheeks rosy with self-importance as he began walking towards them.

"Ron! I heard you were awake and came over to personally thank you for your-"

"Ah, minister Fudge. I'm sorry, but this is a private family affair, and we're not allowing anyone but ourselves and Ron's doctor in at the moment." Percy moved forward flawlessly and blocked the minister's path to their family. Ron was suddenly torn between feeling furious that Fudge thought he could just storm in there like he was welcome, and feeling absolutely shocked as Percy, for the first time ever, shunted a superior. The way he turned his nose up at Fudge was absolutely hilarious.

"Well really Percy, I think I have-"

"I'm sorry Minister, but I have to ask you to leave. We'll contact you when Ron is feeling well enough to speak with the public. If you will." Percy gestured politely to the door even as he began force walking the minister backwards. Fudge glowered in indignation but turned around and stormed out nonetheless, not quite knowing how he could get around being told to leave so properly. Percy turned back to the group with his normal air of self-importance and a twinkle in his eye.

"That was bloody brilliant!" Ron gasped as he started laughing.

"Watch your language Ron." His mum barked but she was still grinning.

"But it was!"

"All right, all right! Calm down everyone." A new voice entered the mix and an older witch entered the room, wand in hand. Her face a mixture of good-humour and professionalism. "It's time I had a good look out our illustrious Ronald Weasley now that he has awakened." The mood shifted into a calmer manner but nobody moved from the bed. She stood there and looked at them expectantly. "The sooner we figure out he's back to full health, the sooner he can go home." They scrambled off the bed and Arthur began hustling everyone, despite their protests, out of the room. Once the door was closed only Ron's parents, his healer, and the unknown wizard were left. He felt the atmosphere shift to seriousness and he remembered why he was in there in the first place. The excitement of his family had left him reeling a bit.

"So, what happened?" He asked softly as he lay back and allowed her to run a diagnostic with her wand. His mum gripped his hand and he let her, knowing that she must have been beside herself these last eight days. Both his parents were pale and looked like they had lost a bit of weight.

"We don't know. After Harry began fighting You-know-who-"

"Voldemort, Dad." Ron shocked himself by saying the hated and feared wizards name so easily. But really, he was gone now; he was just a really long and bad memory.

"Right. After Harry began fighting him Dumbledore arrived with the entire Order, your mother and myself included. We were too late to do any real fighting, everything had happened so, so fast. The Dirt Eaters," Ron made no comment on their new name, "were easy to take care off. But you and Harry, we couldn't get anywhere near you to help…" He trailed off in memory, looking away a moment to hide the fear he must have felt. His mum was squeezing the feeling out of his hand, but again he didn't comment.

"You were both so pale. We thought…there had been an explosion when Harry finally defeated him, and it left a crater all around you. You two were just lying on top of this chunk of road that hadn't disappeared. We had to levitate to get to you…"

"We got you to St. Mungo's as fast as we could, because Harry was out cold and you…you were barely breathing and…" tears welled in her eyes again as the Doctor finished her diagnosis and decided to finish the story for his parents.

"We couldn't figure out what was wrong with you. Harry was in a minor coma from utter exhaustion, but you were in a coma and there was no reason we could think of. You both had the same symptoms, but yours were worse. You suffered from a severe lack of energy, it almost stopped your heart. You had a few broken ribs and a sprained ankle to boot. It must have been one hell of a fight." Ron couldn't stave off the shudder that ran through him as he remembered. He had been so certain that he wouldn't make it out of this one.

"It was." He agreed, feeling his energy suddenly draining away as the adrenalin boost wore off.

"Do you know why it happened?"

"S'pose Mortie got tired of waiting."

"I was referring to your state. You were in a coma for seven days and then slept almost solidly until now. What happened?" He looked into her warm eyes, they were brown, like Hermione's, but had more…oldness to them. He looked away and tried to remember back to that moment. He had been frozen, lying on the ground and Harry had needed help, he needed energy. Ron had given him that energy, as much as he could. Harry must have shifted away from his touch. If he hadn't Ron would have been dead, he would have given Harry everything he had in him. He shuddered.

"Ron?" He looked up sharply and met his father's worried eyes. He couldn't tell them that, he could never tell them that.

"There was a lot of…energy coming from Harry and Mortie. I remember feeling it hitting me in waves and then I must have blacked out, because the next thing I remember is being here." His healer nodded kindly, as though she had expected as much and he sighed in relief, relaxing back in his bed. It was true then, they had no way of knowing what he really was. He thought back to that afternoon, Voldemort staring at him as though he was fascinating. _A Chaneller_, that's what the snake had called him, and that is what Ron knew he was. He took a moment to thank whomever he needed to that only Mortie had known, and the creature was dead and Ron's secret was safe.

"We decided that the raw power you were exposed to must have been the cause. Nobody has been subjected to such energy and lived before. It's a miracle that you're still with us." She nodded and smiled down at him.

"He's a strong boy." Arthur agreed quietly.

"Well, he seems to be in good condition. There is no lingering trace of true exhaustion, though I suspect that you'll be tired a lot for the next few days." She smiled kindly at Ron. "For the sake of your family, who will hopefully get some sleep now that you're awake, I'm going to let you go home. If you feel any dizziness, over tiredness or abnormally queer in and fashion, you'll come straight back here." He nodded enthusiastically at her, grinning sunnily. _Like hell I'm coming back here_ he thought, stilling smiling happily. She pulled a chocolate frog from her pocket and gave it to him as though he was a child, but he took it happily because, really, it was a free chocolate frog. "Well Ronald Weasley, I'll see you in two weeks for a check up, and then hopefully never again." And she swept out of the room.

"Right, let's go home then. You two look like you could use a good rest."

**TBC**

Right, well, there is still much more to come, all the good stuff ;)

Thank you so much for all of the fantastic reviews for the last chapter! It's very encouraging to know the story is still enjoyed even though the real book was captivating everyone. (Helene, it was bloody brilliant wasn't it! Rowling is absolutely terrific!)

I also really appreciate everyone who sends their comments regularly! You're all marvellous!


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Hermione hadn't been lying when she said they had been waiting for Ron before they had the party. They had been planning on holding it at the Burrow, but Dumbledore had decided that, with the noise they were going to make and the amount of preparation it would have forced Molly to do, that it was better off being held at a different location. And so, four days after both he and Harry had been released from St. Mungo's with two clean bills of health (in which Fred and George had promptly handed both Harry and Ron two healthy ducks as they finally stepped out of the hospital…he still didn't quite understand) Ron found himself in the very familiar courtyard of Hogwarts, drinking his sixth glass of butterbeer.

It was surreal really, and Ron almost felt confused as to why they were there. They had been fearing Mortie for so long (all his life in fact) that to be celebrating his final defeat…it just didn't seem real. High above him a red and blue Dragon spun gracefully in the sky, twirling around its massive sparking wings as they blended in colour until it finally died out. Cheer erupted all around and people were laughing and talking excitedly. Fred and George gladly accepted praise for their magnificent fireworks and McGonagall was happily recounting the uproar the twins had caused for Umbridge with a dragon very similar to that one. Her cheeks were a bit rosy, no doubt from the spiked punch she had been consuming slowly all afternoon, but her hair and robes were still as immaculate as ever. Ron figured she needed about ten more drinks before she began to get dishevelled.

Hagrid's merry laugh boomed over the entire party as he danced (rather dangerously for those nearby) with Madame Maxime. A local band was playing the jovial beat in the back with a mixture of muggle and magical instruments, and Ron laughed as one woodwind, playing by itself, kept bumping into its neighbours face. Ron and his family had arrived before lunch, coming in with the Hogwarts express, along with many other friends and wizards that they didn't know. Others had arrived throughout the afternoon, walking up from the town in all manner of dress and bringing all manner of things with them. One wizard had roped off a square area where the younger children flocked around him, and he cast spells that wrapped them up in bubble like casings, where they could roll around and crash into each other without fear of being hurt. Ron had never been allowed to try that when he had been young.

It was dark now, though the stars had yet to come out. Dinner had been a scary affair with so many people meandering around, but it had contained some of the best dishes he had ever tried. Things had been made from all sorts of cultures and Ron had only stopped eating for fear that he might throw up, and that would have been embarrassing. He hadn't seen Harry since then, as he had been swept away with one group or another as they went to thank him. And he hadn't seen Hermione since before the meal. Ron had been swamped all afternoon, talking to his friends, hearing recounts of the fight from different perspectives as everyone tried to tell of what they had done and seen. Some had broken down in tears and others were trying to act overly brave. Ron suspected some of the stories were made up, because he didn't remember seeing this many people fighting on the streets of Hogsmeade with them, but he managed to hold off his temper. It didn't matter what people said, so long as the people that he cared about knew what had happened.

"It's a bit tiring isn't it?" An unfamiliar voice interrupted his thoughts as a wizard flopped down in the seat beside him. Ron looked over and realized that he was the same wizard that had been in St. Mungo's with him.

"It's not bad. I reckon we'll be going until next week at this rate."

"Right you are! Right in deed! Granveld Sigweed is the name." He thrust a hand in Ron's direction and he shook it firmly, though Ron wasn't quite sure what to say. He had never spoken with this man before.

"Ron Weasley."

"That you are, and it is a pleasure to speak with you in person. You're family speaks very highly of you indeed!"

"That's what family's for." He shrugged, and gently extracted his hand from the grip. He noticed that Mr. Sigweed's nails were imbedded with dirt, but he didn't say anything. They looked like Neville's hands, only larger, so he figured the man must be a gardener.

"It is, but I also know that they have right reason to be proud, what with all the stories of you and young Potter and Granger floating around. It's a miracle you recovered so quickly!" Ron felt his face burn up in a flush and he looked away to try and hide it. He wasn't used to this familiarity people were taking with him. It was only the fifth time it had happened, but it was usually Harry that would get the attention and Ron was beginning to be glad he'd never had to deal with it so much before.

"Right. Well, it's good that you're out of the hospital now. What put you in there in the first place, if you don't mind me asking?" His attempt to change the subject was accepted as the happy wizard seemed to bounce in his seat in merriment.

"Ah no, I don't mind you asking at all! One of those Dirt Eaters hexed me good, took the bones right out of my legs they did! That young Seamus and Dean got him back though, took all his bones in one swoop. It was marvellous it was! Took me a fair amount of time to grow them back though. It had the healers stumped for a while, seeing as it wasn't a difficult process and it was taking so long. I got better right fast after you left though. Oi!" He suddenly yelled and Ron jumped in his seat, Sigweed was waving at someone in the crowd. "That's me girl friend Darleen over there! I best be getting back, it was good to talk with you though, and I wish you the best!"

"Yeah, thanks. You too." Ron said but his companion was already bouncing away, no doubt ecstatic at being able to walk again. He took a moment to regain his bearing, because that had perhaps been one of the most rushed conversations he'd ever had, and then looked about the group again. It certainly was lively, and all the fairy lights darting around everyone made it look that much more majestic. He supposed he should be getting back to the party, he had only been sitting to catch a breather, and then he was going to go and rescue Harry from whoever had got a hold of him now. The poor guy had been fending for himself long enough now. It had been an hour since Ron last saw him, and as childish as it might sound, he missed him.

A hand landed on his shoulder and he looked up, breaking into a full grin.

"Well, speak of the Devil."

"I thought Malfoy turned down the invitation." Harry retorted and laughed as Ron tried to kick him half heartedly. "Hey, I only just got that leg fixed." He complained and Ron stood to join him, laughing despite himself. It shouldn't have been funny, because Harry had broken that leg, but if he didn't laugh he might have cried and he couldn't do that here, not in front of all these people. Harry seemed to sense that, because the second Ron stood fully he pulled him into a hug. They had been doing that a lot these last few days, more then they ever had before. It was unspoken between them, but they knew they did it to reassure themselves that the other was okay. Hermione had been getting a lot more hugs as well, though she almost seemed more flustered than anything, trying to maintain her dignified persona.

Ron held Harry tightly for a moment, and didn't release his arm as they separated and looked over the crowd. For the moment nobody was bothering them and Fudge had left shortly after his dinner speech so there was no fear of being hassled by the ministry.

"I still don't quite feel like it's over, you know? This feels so…"

"Dreamlike?" Ron supplied and Harry nodded, his emerald eyes roaming around the group. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

"I guess I figured it would take longer, be more painful, leave more of a mark." Harry was speaking of the final battle, the end of the war. It was true that there were still Death Eaters out there who had escaped in the end, and those that hadn't been at the final battle to begin with, but their leader had been wiped out. It was over.

"It left enough of a mark." Ron said and looked at Harry's faded scar a moment before once again scanning the crowd. The sound seemed to have died down as they stood there, but as Ron watched people gesticulating wildly and hanging off each other as they laughed, he knew it was just his own ears tuning them out.

"And it was rather painful." Harry agreed.

"And you were locked in magic with the bastard for no less than half an hour. Not even Dumbledore could get close enough to help. I'd say that's plenty long enough!" Ron declared and Harry laughed. Harry was older now, Ron could sense it as they stood side by side. But Ron was older as well, and so was Hermione. They had had to grow up fast, but the laugh Harry had just given him, it showed that there was still spirit inside of him, there was still the teenager that they all needed to be.

"More then long enough. I honestly didn't think I had the energy in the end, but somehow it came to me." Harry looked at Ron smiling, but there was something searching in his gaze, looking into his blue eyes as though Ron could tell him were he got the extra energy from. It was almost suspicious, but it was also filled with mirth.

"Hey, no serious talk!" Hermione suddenly appeared beside Harry and their gaze was broken as she joined them, somehow glaring and grinning at the same time. Ron laughed loudly and grabbed her, pulling her and Harry into another hug. He was just so glad that they were okay that sometimes he never wanted to let them go. They all became caught up in the moment and held on to each other, breaking off after what must have been several minutes. Hermione and Harry's eyes were sparkling with brightness as they held back tears, and Ron felt the moisture gathering in his own. Great Merlin they were an emotional lot! He chuckled, and noticed that it sounded abnormally loud in the air. They pulled away from each other and looked to the party, which had gone silent and was watching them intently. Ron's parents were off to their right, holding each other tightly, Neville and Ginny beside them. Dumbledore stood not five feet away, and he had a twinkle in his eye that would match the stars that were beginning to dot the sky. The Headmaster of Hogwarts smiled at them, and solemnly raised his glass.

"The wizarding world owes you a debt of gratitude. You certainly are the most brave at heart." It wasn't much by way of speeches and for a moment Ron thought that Harry deserved something a bit more, but when it came down to it, he supposed that it was all that needed to be said. Anything more would have been too much at the moment. He looked at Harry and raised his glass of butterbeer, and Hermione did the same, the tears becoming more prominent in her eyes.

"Are you both daft!" Harry looked at Ron in sudden astonishment and he almost looked behind him to see if something was there. Hermione looked just as startled as their dark haired friend looked between them, his eyes wide and almost angry. Harry's strong hand gripped Ron's wrist and pushed his salute down. "He was talking to all of us." Ron looked back at Dumbledore, who bowed his head in recognition, and the crowd erupted in a wave of cheers so loud that Ron was almost knocked off his feet in surprise. He looked at Harry who was laughing and pulling them close again. "Never, I never could have done it without you." Ron had been right, the party didn't end for a week.

0000

Out of all the six previous years Harry had come to Hogwarts, none of them had been as anticipated as his seventh. There were no Dursleys to make his summer miserable, because he had moved in with the Weasley's, permanently. There was no longer a fear of Voldemort floating over all their heads. There was no longer the crushing weight of expectation resting on his shoulders, the worry of whether or not he could save the wizarding (and in effect the muggle) world. For the first time in his wizarding life he was no longer the boy-who-would-save-them, he was the boy-who-had-saved-them, and because of that he could finally just be a boy.

True he would never fully have the peace that a normal person would, seeing as everyone knew who he was, and how texts such as _Hogwarts, a History_ had already written him into its teachings. The younger students at Hogwarts gawked at him in the halls, he still received letters every morning from wizards and witches asking him if he needed a place to live, if he would like to come to their business parties or charity events, if he could send an autograph to their daughter or son (or themselves), if he would be interested in having his picture on the front of their product and so on. But aside from these things, which he didn't allow to interfere with his life, he was finally just another student.

Ron had charmed several quills into repeating Harry's signature and they had spent their first two weekends signing memorabilia that had been sent to them. Ron had become quite efficient in plagiarizing Harry's name, even though Harry himself didn't have a specific signature style yet. After that McGonagall had arranged it so that only so many letters could get to him a week, because really, he needed to focus on his studies and quidditch. She had been rather protective of him since he had returned, and between her, Molly, and Dumbledore, the press hadn't been given much of a chance to harass him. Another thing that had had Harry laughing was the look on Hermione and Ron's faces when they got their own fan mail. It had died down by the end of the first week for them, but that hadn't stopped Ron from turning red in embarrassment every time one of their friends made fun of him.

"Ron! Hey Ron! How about a picture with my brother! We could put it in the school paper!" The Creevey brothers had called out once. "Or how about one with Harry!" Ron had been surprisingly shy about all the attention, which had thrown Harry off at first, seeing how his best mate had always craved it in their previous years. Ron hadn't spoken to Harry yet about how he felt over the attention, and he even seemed to avoid it whenever possible. Hermione had pulled Harry over one day the previous week to see if he knew why Ron was suddenly shy. Whatever the reason was, it didn't change Ron's normal attitude towards school, or his fiery temper. Especially since Draco Malfoy had begun tormenting them again, despite Ron's warning the previous year.

Everything was going great for them, with Hermione being Head Girl and Ron being a seventh year Prefect (Harry really hadn't wanted that position after everything that had happened. He knew he would be good at it, but he wanted a break from that kind of responsibility.), so it came as a surprise this night, when Ron had soundlessly pulled open the curtains from around his bed and crept down to the Gryffindor common room. Harry watched with half lidded eyes as Ron's tall frame had disappeared and frowned, because it wasn't like Ron to not sleep through the night, at least he didn't think it was. He looked over at the other beds in their shared dorm room. Neville's was half closed and the boy lay exactly where he had fallen the night before. Dean had his bed completely concealed and Seamus hadn't even bothered to tug on the curtains. Over the years they all changed their preferences of privacy from night to night, so this set up came as no surprise. None of the boys had heard Ron slip out.

Harry reached over and groped for his glasses, slipping them on and crystallizing his vision. It was the first week of October and the full moon was shining through their tower window, illuminating the normally dark path to the door. Harry easily stepped over Dean's robe and followed Ron down the stairs. For a brief moment he wondered how Lupin was doing this evening, and then pushed the thought to the back of his mind. There was something up with Ron, and Harry wanted to know what. If he hadn't awakened from his own nightmare only minutes before then he wouldn't have even been aware that Ron had wandered away from their room.

He stepped into the common room and looked around carefully. The fire was burning low, casting flickering shadows along the walls and furniture. Harry spotted Ron sitting in his favourite chair, gazing at his chess bored in front of him. His pieces were still and lying about in various positions, the white queen was leaning over and pinching her husband's nose to try and stop his tiny snoring. Harry couldn't see Ron's face clearly at this distance, but he wasn't one to let his friends wallow alone, so he moved forward decisively and sat in the seat across from Ron, watching him the entire time. Ron startled when he sat down, raising his hand a moment as if to ward off an attacker, and then he flushed so brilliantly that Harry could see the shade change even in the dim lighting.

"Harry, are you trying to give me a heart attack, or do you just fancy an early death?" Normally Harry might have smiled at the typical reaction, but it was half past two in the morning on a Wednesday, and he could already see Ron's eyes shift uncertainly, trying to decide how he could turn this conversation away from him.

"What's up Ron, besides yourself that is?" He asked quietly. His voice didn't travel around the room this evening as it sometimes might, and the few paintings continued to snore, oblivious to their presence. Ron looked down at his chess set and suddenly reached out, prodding a piece to move forward. The pawn wasn't happy at being awoken.

"Couldn't sleep, I figured a quick round against myself might knock me out." Harry looked at the board and then at Ron, raising his eyebrows. Ron hadn't moved anything but the pawn so far, so that excuse wasn't going to work.

"Try again." Ron looked up sharply at that and glared at Harry half-heartedly.

"Doesn't matter why I'm up, I just couldn't sleep. What about you? You should be snoring like a log up there."

"I don't snore." Harry immediately defended himself and glared back. He could either start an argument now so that they could leave the subject of Ron's insomnia alone, which is what he obviously wanted or else he wouldn't be trying to get a rise out of Harry. Or he could tell the truth of why he was awake and guilt Ron into confessing himself. It had taken two years for Harry to figure out that if he wanted an honest answer from Ron when Ron didn't want to give one, he had to start by being honest himself. It triggered Ron's sense of loyalty and the tall boy couldn't lie to Harry after Harry was brave enough to speak of his own troubles. It was a shameful way to force Ron to talk, but if Harry didn't do that then Ron would never say anything. Somewhere along the line of growing up Ron had convinced himself that his problems weren't as important as other people's. Harry had noticed, upon his first meeting with Ron, that he was often overlooked in his family, what with Molly being so busy with the twins' pranks, Percy's self-importance, Ginny being the youngest and only girl, and having two older and successful brothers.

Ron had a temper that was probably equal to his dragon fighting brother Charlie, but he barely ever let it get the better of him when at home. He had told Harry once, late at night in their second year, that he didn't press his mum to remember certain things about him, such as his aversion to the colour maroon and corned beef. He didn't want to be a bother, what with her already having so much to worry about. Harry had never forgotten that, or the way Ron had shrugged it off as though he was embarrassed by the confession, as though Harry needn't care. So, looking at Ron now Harry decided that it wasn't the time for a brush off, he wanted to make sure his best mate was okay.

"I couldn't sleep, nightmares and such." It didn't come out quite as bold as he wanted it to, but he'd said it. He hated people knowing he had bad dreams, but Ron was the only person he'd ever really talked to about it, the only person who ever woke him up from them, so he supposed by now he shouldn't worry about what his best friend would think. Ron looked at him and frowned, worried.

"I know. I heard you tossing about. I didn't think you'd woken up though, I figured they had left you alone after you went quite again."

"They only leave me alone after I wake up, but they're not so bad lately." Harry moved a dark pawn forward and Ron suddenly frowned, looking at the board. "Since Voldemort's been gone they've lessened. I only get them about three or four nights a week now."

"Yeah, I was glad to see you sleeping through the night again." He moved another pawn forward. Harry watched him. Another way to get the truth was to split his concentration; chess was the best method, quidditch the second best. He quickly slipped another pawn ahead two spots and looked up again, frowning.

"You're awake enough to know when I sleep through the night?" Ron's hand stopped mid movement to the board and he pulled it back, staring worriedly at the king. For a moment he didn't move, as if stuck in some strange limbo that Harry wasn't allowed to join, before he hastily moved his knight. The horse whinnied unhappily and its agitated rider struggled to keep it on its new square.

"You wake me up when you don't sleep through the night. You're beds not far from mine, and I've been trained to notice your unease." He smiled, but despite the effort Harry felt it was too thin to be real. He looked at the board silently, contemplating his next move. Ron wasn't budging yet, and Harry didn't like that. He let silence fill the room for five minutes before he reached forward and slid his bishop through the gap he'd made in his pawns. He opened his mouth and then shut it slowly, only to open it again, not quite sure what to say. As Ron moved forward, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. Hey, he wasn't Shakespeare.

"You must think I'm an awful friend." Ron looked as though his eyes would bug out in surprise, and the tightness that had been around his lips smoothed out as he all but jumped in to defend Harry against himself.

"Why the bloody hell would you say that? After everything we've been through?"

"I just…you don't…you don't talk to me Ron. You never tell me when something's bothering you, you never ask for help. After everything we've been through, you still don't trust me enough to ask for help."

"That's not true!" He spluttered, his face going a shade darker in the dim light. "If I was to write a list of how many times I've asked you for help it would stretch from here to the quidditch pitch!"

"Like what?"

"Like…like…like last weekend I asked you to help me pick out a new robe, or yesterday when I needed a breather from practice and you ran interference for a minute. Or this summer when we built that bloody shed for Dad's muggle things, or when you had to hold onto my ankle for an hour so I didn't float away after accidentally eating one of Fred and George's _soaring sour suckers_. Then there was that time you _leviosa'd_ me out of that hole Hagrid dug, how you made sure I was awake for breakfast yesterday morning, how you lend me you're invisibility cloak so I can sneak to the kitchen, how you help me with my homework because Hermione gets too frustrated, how you saved my life from Voldemort…do I need to go on?"

"So how come you never told me how worried you were about passing your OWLS? Or how terrified you were of being a prefect the first time around? Or the fact that you haven't been able to use your sixth sense properly since you almost died?"

"What? How did you know?"

"Come off it Ron! I've known since a week after you got out of the hospital and I'm still not used to seeing you jump every time someone surprises you. Why don't you trust me?"

"Harry," Ron sounded so upset. "I do trust you, but you've always got so much on your mind that I don't want to add any more burden."

"You just finished telling me that you wake up every single time I have a nightmare and you think _you're_ a burden? What is this, a friendship where I do all the taking and you get nothing?"

"Don't be stupid, it's not like that at all!"

"Then what is it like Ron? You just don't have any problems? You don't think I'm capable of helping you the way you help me? Is it a sign of weakness to need to share you're problems with the one person you trust more than anyone else in this world?" Harry looked away from Ron's dismayed eyes, upset with himself as much as Ron. He came here to try and help his friend, and he ended up unloading on him instead. Maybe he really wasn't a worthy friend, despite what Ron said. He sat their in silence a moment, embarrassed, upset, and suddenly to shy to look up at Ron; until he heard a weary sigh.

"I have nightmares almost every time I close my eyes." Ron's shaking hand moved his knight again and leaned back. "I feel the evil from Voldemort in my dreams, I see you dying instead of winning, and then my family is killed off one by one and everyone blames me because I couldn't help you." Harry pulled in a deep breathe, he had known Ron sometimes had problems sleeping, but he hadn't known it bothered his friend this much.

"Why didn't you tell me? Or anyone for that matter?"

"Harry, you've been dealing with nightmares since you came to Hogwarts! That's seven bleedin years, and I've only just started having them. Mine can't be nearly as bad as yours! They're not worth mentioning."

"But Ron, they are worth mentioning! Don't you see? You're allowed to feel afraid, and to express your worries! It doesn't matter that I've had nightmares longer then you, a nightmare is a nightmare and they always hurt, no matter who you are." Ron nodded slowly, thinking, and Harry felt an affectionate smile sneak up on his face. "Really Ron, you face giants, murdering chess pieces, dragons, death eaters, Voldemort, and Snape's advanced N.E.W.T potions class and you think you're not entitled to nightmares? You're cracked." That got a chuckle out of him at least.

"I'm getting better though. I don't know if I'll ever get my sense back again, it's been haywire for so long now." Harry made a random move on the board and watched Ron carefully.

"Why?"

"I figure it has something to do with the amount of energy I lost during the battle. I feel back to full health, but there are still things that don't feel whole again yet."

"I know what you mean." Harry agreed. "I feel like there is something missing, like I haven't quite figured out who I am anymore."

"I suppose it's that adolescent transitional phase Mum's always going on about. Funny though, the twins never seemed to have that issue."

"The twins aren't the issue here. Have you told Dumbledore about your sense problem?"

"Nah, don't want to bother him. He's got enough going on with the school and the aftermath of the war. If he has any down time he should spend it relaxing, not worrying about whether or not I can tell attendance with my eyes closed."

"I suppose." Harry didn't agree with that assessment for a moment, but he wasn't going to say so. Seeing the faint smirk on Ron's lips he figured his friend picked up on his reluctant agreement. He got up impulsively and moved around the table, squishing onto the big chair with Ron. Ron looked at him with a raised eyebrow but didn't comment as he moved to make more room. It was an hour later that Harry was being wakened by a not so gentle shove.

"Get up already, I'm not going to be caught sharing this chair with you at five in the morning, who knows what people would think." Ron was grumbling, but there was an affectionate note to his voice that Harry noticed, despite his sleep addled brain. He twisted and knocked Ron off the chair in one swift motion.

"Problem solved."

"You, pushy little…bugger." Ron laughed and stood, dragging Harry bodily from the chair and shoving him to the stairs. Harry just tried to get his bearings, as he couldn't see properly.

"My glasses…" he mumbled, turning back.

"I've got 'em, don't worry. Now move it." Harry complied, but stopped just before they reached their door and turned on Ron who, despite being a step lower than him, was still at eye level.

"You sure you're okay Ron? Because I really do worry about you."

"I know. I'm not one hundred percent, neither of us are, but we will be. I'll…try not to hide so much in the future though all right?" It was too dark and blurry to see Ron's eyes, but his voice sounded sincere. Harry felt relieved.

"Good. I'll hold you to it."

**TBC**

I hope you enjoyed that! Now, to answer the question of how many chapters there will be…umm, I'd say around forty, give or take a few (probably take a few). I

have finally finished this story so there are no worries about it being one of those really annoying forever incomplete pieces of work. I will be posting the chapters

more frequently from now on (as I finish editing them in the time I find ;) and I will be posting the date for the next update at the bottom of each chapter.

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!

**Next Update**: August 5, 2005


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"Bloody 'eck Ron! What is wrong with you!" Ginny yelled, her face scrunched up in anger. Bill, Fred and George (who had the misfortune of walking into the garden at that moment) stood to the side, avoiding her wrath and looking at Ron in confusion.

"Well really Ginny, we wrote up a list last summer." Fred explained to her.

"It's still on the bulletin if you want to take a peek."

"Shut up!" She didn't even look at them as she continued to glare at Ron. He was beginning to grow red in the face as well, as he stood defensively on the path that led to the Burrow's front door. "Well! Spill it! Because I am sick of waiting around for you to explain it to me!"

"There is nothin' wrong with me! There never has been anythin' wrong with me! You've been houndin' on me for months now and I want you to back off!"

"Nothin wrong with you my arse!" She growled.

"Now Ginny, I don't know what's been goin' on but you may just be over reactin' a bit here-"

"I am not over reactin' Bill! Why is it that whenever I think something is wrong I'm the one whose over reactin'?" She rounded her full sized Molly glare on him and the twins simultaneously took one step to their left, leaving Bill to fend for himself as they grinned like cheshire cats, enjoying themselves immensely. It wasn't often they weren't the ones being yelled at.

"Maybe because you always yell about your problems. If you tried to explain them in a calm fashion-"

"Don't you dare go all Percy on me Bill! I have tried, several times in fact, to tell you all that I think there's a problem and none of you think I'm serious! Yelling is the only way any of you will listen to me! So stow it!" She was fast approaching livid, and she looked back at Ron who stood as stiffly as ever. There had been a tension between them for some time, but they had managed to keep it under wraps for the most part, until now that was; Ginny had apparently reached her limit where it came to Ron. The problem she had was that none of their brothers saw what the problem was. And now Bill was getting angry at her for being angry with Ron. This had the potential to turn into a very traditional Weasley family row.

"Ron." She tried to keep her voice calm, but it trembled slightly with tension. "I am not going to _back off_ until you tell me exactly what your problem is, because I will not stand by and watch you push everyone away! I won't have it!"

"Ginny." Ron replied equally as calm, ignoring the presence of his brothers. "I have told you time and again, there is nothing wrong! I am not pushing people away, I am just busy with N.E.W.T.S and quidditch! Just because I'm not holed up with Harry and Hermione every spare chance I get doesn't mean I'm avoiding them. I'm busy is all."

"See Ginny? There's nothing wrong with Ron." Fred said.

"He's always been a bit off." George tried to help, unhelpfully.

"And what would either of you know about it!" She snapped, and was satisfied when they jumped slightly at her tone. "What would anyone in this household other then me know about it?"

"Ginny, leave them out of this." Ron warned softly, crossing his arms tightly in front of him.

"I don't need to leave them out of this Ron, they have never been in this! You have to be in to get out!"

"We know what is goin' on with our kid brother Ginny!" George glared, becoming defensive. The twins never took well to accusations.

"Bollocks! None of you know a damn thing! What, you think because he tells you about all his fantastic quidditch moves, or how he beat Slytherin into the ground in the chess tournament, or how much he hates studying, that you know what's going on?" Her laugh was very edgy. "I suppose he also tells you that he spends a minimum of eight extra hours a week working out on the quidditch pitch when no one else is around. I suppose he told you about the broken bones that have resulted?" Ron was beginning to pale and he tightened his protective stance as the three brothers questioning stares turned on him. "I don't suppose you've been getting up in the early morning to see if he's playing chess with himself in the common room, instead of sleeping. How about the fact that he seems to spend more time than Hermione does studying!"

"Now that's a bit strange mate." Fred interrupted, looking at Ron like he was waiting for him to deny these accusations. Their brother glared angrily at his sister.

"Stop it Ginny! That's none of their, or your, business."

"Like hell it isn't! Ron! What is wrong?" Her voice had taken to pleading now, mixed with her anger.

"Nothing!" He snapped back, and Bill stepped up behind Ginny, his earring swinging as he moved.

"He always says it's nothing. If it was nothing I wouldn't have noticed, and neither would have Harry."

"Leave Harry out of this."

"How can I? I see the looks he gives you, when he tries to get you to eat more at breakfast and dinner. You're losing weight Ron, and you're already thin!" His brothers were suddenly surveying his body, trying to look for this evidence, he stepped back, his face a deep shade of crimson.

"I've been stressed out Ginny! The N.E.W.T.S aren't a joke! Half of the seventh years have already had nervous breakdowns and they're still a week away!"

"You never lose your appetite over studying." George spoke up, beginning to look a bit worried.

"What would you know! You never paid that close attention when you were at Hogwarts." Ron glared at him.

"That's not true!"

"We looked out for you all the time!"

"Right, was this before or after you finished pestering me, or perhaps it was during your quidditch matches? The most time you spent with me was on holidays, otherwise I was just a test subject for your pranks. It was only when something interesting was going on with Harry that you paid attention."

"We never treated you that badly!"

"Very rarely…"

"You were the only one who could take our jokes…"

"And you liked them! Said it made you feel loved you did."

"That was sarcasm, and yeah, I liked some of them, the ones that didn't make an utter fool out of me. I didn't need much help to look like an imbecile, I could manage that by myself." The twins glared at him.

"You should have said something!"

"What? You mean you didn't understand what "bugger off" and "stop making a fool out of me" meant? I know you two aren't that thick!"

"Enough!" Ginny cut into their argument and glared harshly at Ron. "You are not going to misdirect this argument! Not this time!"

"Ron, what's buggering you? Because if Ginny and Harry think something is wrong, then you must be out of sorts."

"Does it have anything to do with your sixth sense thingy?"

"Sixth sense?"

"How the hell did you know about that!"

"Mad-eye Moody was tellin' Mum and Dad after Harry killed Voldie. They were right pissed you never told them, but let it go once they knew you were going to survive." A moment of silence surrounded them and Bill was looking at Ron as though he had grown a second head, which was probably not all that uncommon in the wizarding world.

"You're an aura interpreter?" Bill sounded shocked. Ron glared at the twins but refused to answer, instead he took a step towards the gate, as though looking to retreat.

"That's not all though, is it?" Ginny said. "You don't sleep much anymore, Harry is certain you use charms to make it sound like you're asleep."

"Harry doesn't know what he's talking about." Ron grumbled.

"Does it have something to do with you using wandless magic?" His face shifted to a shocking shade of white and to a scarlet red in a matter of moments as the three brothers gaped between them?

"Since when have you been able to use wandless magic! That is absolutely absurd! Ginny, what the hell is the matter with you!" Bill suddenly looked furious, and they all missed the look of utter panic that briefly emerged on Ron's face as they stared at Bill.

"It's not me that you should be worrying about! Your little brother over there is hiding something from everyone, and I am sure he can do magic without a wand." She stubbornly spat, daring them to contend with her, which they did without hesitation. Fred and George had lost all air of flippancy and were, for a rare moment, very serious as they looked between the group. A sudden tense stillness settled that hadn't been there before, despite all the arguing. This clash was becoming much more serious than was normal.

"That is a very serious accusation Ginny. Wandless magic is very rare, and only the most powerful wizards can do that. Even then it's only the most basic spells and they train very hard for that skill."

"If I said it was Harry, none of you would be questioning me this much."

"Harry conjured a patronous as strong as Dumbledore's when he was fourteen Ginny! Can Ron even do one?"

"Of course he can! He is Harry's best friend, do you honestly think he doesn't have a solid grasp on defences against the dark arts! He knows more then either of you two combined! He was preparing to fight Voldemort alongside Harry the entire way, so don't you dare question his strength as a wizard!" She hissed. Nobody knew who was more surprised at this outburst, but Ron looked the most startled.

"Ginny, I'm not that great of a wizard. I mean, Harry is a lot stronger then me by far, and he learned more magic from the professors then they ever taught anyone else. I just happened to be there the day Mortie attacked, that was all."

"Come off it Ron. You never left Harry's side once sixth year started. You were afraid that if he went anywhere without you he wouldn't come back alive. You and Hermione both were preparing to fight in the final battle as much as Harry, even if nobody else wanted to properly acknowledge this."

"That is not a fair accusation and you know it Ginny! Mum, Dad, and the entire order knew that we were with Harry as much as possible. It was inevitable that we would end up fighting with him."

"We're getting off topic" Bill interrupted sternly, looking between his two youngest siblings. Almost losing Ron in the final battle had been harrowing for the entire family, but it had been true that none of them, even after the incident at the ministry that brought about Sirius's death, had been fully aware of how much danger Ron was always throwing himself into. "Ginny, you can't go about saying that Ron can practice wandless magic! It's dangerous, and he could be hurt if a false rumour like that spread to the public."

"It's not a false rumour." She denied stubbornly.

"It is so you git!" Ron snarled.

"So I suppose that time you summoned the paper in the great hall was just a coincidence then?"

"When I…Ginny! That was practically two years ago!"

"And I've been worried about you for just as long!"

"What are you talking about?" Fred's voice was unnervingly low. He was watching Ginny carefully and George was watching Ron. No doubt they would later combine the two's reactions to get a solid idea of who was telling the truth. This attention to detail is why they were such good pranksters (never getting caught), and why their shop was turning out so well.

"It's nothing." Ron protested but they weren't really interested in his account at the moment. Bill was staring at Ginny intently, but she refused to squirm. She had been under the gaze of her entire family numerous times throughout her life, and it would take more then four brothers to get her to back down.

"It was when Fudge announced that the Quidditch cup would be postponed." She glared at Ron threateningly as he opened his mouth to comment. "Ron hadn't read the paper yet when he sat down to breakfast, and a group had one down the table. He said, and I quote 'Let me see that!' and the bloody prophet flew straight into his hand. It was a summons, and he DID NOT USE HIS WAND!"

"I did to!"

"Did not!"

"Did to!"

"Enough! Ron," Bill frowned at him assessing, "is this true?"

"Yes, of course it is! The whole bloody table saw me summon it. But I USED MY WAND!" He spoke in the same tone as his sister, his glare promising her a lifetime of punishment for this entire argument. He was defensive, and holding himself tightly, his hands clenched. A Ron with curled fists at his side was an angry, aggressive Ron looking to fight with what he thought was the truth. A Ron with his arms crossed was a defensive Ron, and often had something to hide. His entire family knew this, even if he wasn't aware of it himself. Bill's frown deepened, and the twins were beginning to look…well, really unsure. Ginny was feeling their perceptions shift to her side, and was relieved to finally have someone, other then herself, really understand that something very serious was wrong with her brother. With this confidence she could speak calmly again, knowing that they would finally listen.

"You did not use your wand Ron, I don't care what you say. He convinced the table he used ambidextrous magic," she informed her brothers, "But that's absolute bollocks."

"It's not that difficult Ginny! Neville used it all year, and it came in bloody useful when he broke his wand wrist in the final battle." He spit the words out, desperately trying to hold his ramped emotions in check.

"Then let's see you do it then." George announced.

"What? I'm not going to bloody do ambidextrous magic to prove that I'm telling the truth! You're all loony if yer buyin into even a fraction of this fallacy."

"Just show us Ron, and then we can forget this argument ever happened." Bill sounded severe, and Ron spluttered. The youngest male Weasley was fast loosing ground, and he was going to panic any moment now, because he knew full well that he had never been able to do ambidextrous magic. He had tried to learn, but it had been utterly useless, he would have been better off trying to use his wand with his right foot. He was about to open his mouth again to stall, when his mother, just flooing in from the market place, yelled out to them.

"Boys! Come help me with the groceries!" Molly Weasley ordered, coming to the doorway of their house and looking at the silent, still, and tense group.

"In a moment Mum, Ron was just going to demonstrate something for us." Her eyes widened as they landed on her youngest boy, noticing him for the first time.

"Ronald Weasley! You should be in Hogsmeade meeting with Harry and Hermione right now! There is no reason for you to be keeping them from heading back to school! You have N.E.W.T.S. to study for! Shame on you, making your friends wait like this!" Ron, startled out of his glare with his siblings, looked at her blankly for a moment, before he erupted with energy.

"Right! I'm such a ponce! I completely forgot. I'd best be off then, say bye to Dad for me!" He was rushing into the house, past his mum and through the floo before his siblings could properly protest (forgetting the items he had originally floo'd home for). After his departure they looked at each other in worry.

"He's not eating you said?"

"Not enough. I'm not making this up guys, there is something wrong with him and he hasn't even confided with Harry. He tells Harry everything, especially since Voldemort. I am really worried."

"And he used wandless magic? You're sure?"

"He might be able to fool everyone else, but I know him too well. Somehow that paper went to him, and he did not use a wand." All three boys hissed quietly, and Bill rubbed his forehead.

"Right. Okay, obviously he doesn't want us to know, which means he is most likely terrified that whatever it is that's happening to him won't go over well with anyone. Ginny, keep an eye on him. We're not going to say anything about this until after his exams."

"Bill, we really should tell Mum and Dad."

"They won't let him alone enough to finish his term then, and despite everything we can't let Ron be ruined for his exams. He's worked hard, and he is dead set on becoming an auror. If he doesn't do well then he won't forgive us. The second he's done though, we are going to get to the bottom of this." There were agreeing nods all around as the four made a pact to help their brother.

**TBC**

Now, admittedly, this was perhaps my favourite chapter to write. This was exactly how I pictured a Weasley family argument. I hope it worked for all of you as well. Good luck with your exams Harry Lvr.

**Next Update:** August 8, 2005


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Exams had come quicker than anyone in the fifth or seventh years had wanted. The halls were silent, the library was a scary place to be, meals were subdued, the courtyards had students stuffed between benches and against walls, the empty classes dedicated as study rooms were always half full and the practice rooms were nearly impossible to get. Hermione was beside herself trying to study, go to faculty meetings, take care of the students, and, on top of everything, help organize the charity quidditch match being held at Hogwarts the day after exams.

Despite the extremely tense atmosphere and the way every student not in fifth or seventh year tiptoed around so as not to be distracting, Ron was finding it nearly impossible to revise. He hadn't been able to concentrate on much of anything since he had left the Burrow the week before, and having Ginny staring worriedly at him every time they came within eyesight just sent him more on edge. If he hadn't spent so much time in the previous month studying (and yes, though he was ashamed to admit it, he was avoiding his friends) then there was no way he would have been ready for the finals; he still wasn't sure he would be up to par as it was.

However, that was all a moot point really, because soon there would be absolutely no chance that he would be an auror, or a professional quidditch player, or much of anything really. Because honestly, who was going to hire a bloody chaneller? Everyone would be so afraid of him that even his family would avoid him. He'd be England's only vagabond that came with a full platoon of auror's guarding him, and wasn't that something Mum and Dad could be proud of. The biggest aggravation of all was that he couldn't blame anyone for this. He couldn't blame the wizarding world, he couldn't blame Voldemort, and he couldn't blame Ginny and her damned insightfulness. He was the only one that could be held accountable for who he was, and that was exactly how the wizarding world was going to react to him.

A chaneller. He was a bleedin chaneller, and though he had been living with this knowledge since the beginning of sixth year, having Voldemort call him on it before Harry snuffed him had set Ron's knowledge in stone. He had been hoping that he'd read all the signs wrong until that point, but that was no longer possible. Of course, he'd been scared to the point where he made himself physically sick in the past, and on one instance Harry and his friends had ended up lugging him to Madame Pomfry because he allowed himself to get so worried. He had tried hard, really hard, to not let it get to him or to interfere with how he acted around people, but apparently he hadn't done enough if his sister had noticed.

Ron had started noticing something was different with him just before sixth term started, and if it hadn't been for the insightful glimpses of knowledge that the brains had injected into him at the department of mysteries, it might have taken him much longer to notice that he was…off. Of course, he had also been dealing with the development of his sixth sense at the time and had been able to concentrate most of his worries on that problem instead. It was when he had almost killed his kid sister he had begun to silently panic.

They had been practicing quidditch and Ron had been manning his posts, as usual. Ginny, who had one hell of an arm (he was damn proud of that!) had been in a position that allowed for a fantastic shot, and Ron had been completely focused on blocking it. He hadn't even thought about his actions, only reacted on instinct, and he had burst into action with an energy that wasn't normal for him. It had been a brilliant save, but that had mattered little when Ginny had almost toppled off her broom in weakness. He had taken some of her energy without even realizing it, and she had nearly died. Because that was what a chaneller did: they took other creatures' energies, magic, life forces.

Nobody knew how this gift worked, it had never really been studied before seeing as it was extremely rare for any wizard, regardless of their magical strength, to possess such an ability. That had become all to clear to Ron. During that quidditch match he knew he had somehow caused his sister her pain, and he could have done that to any one of his teammates, but it hadn't been until that History of Magic class that he had started realizing how big his problem was.

_A chaneller,_ Professor Binns had dully stated, _is a wizard or witch who was born with the rare ability to purloin the energies of another witch, wizard, or life force that he or she chooses. Not much is understood about this magical power, seeing as most of the people who had it were killed for treason against humanity while the others were hidden in the depths of the Ministry of Magic. Awful people they were, too powerful to do any good. It is a gift that is feared, and rightly so, by even the most powerful of wizards. Of course, another reason for such a lack of knowledge about this power is that there have only been fourteen known instances where this fashion of magic has been publicly practiced, though I do place emphasis on the known._

It had only taken a few boring lecture sentences from a professor who wasn't even properly alive, to teach Ron how awful people with his ability were. Chanellers were known as the most feared terrorists of the wizarding world. Doytil had been a chaneller, and in the famous war of 1713 he had, with his bare hands, drained his enemy's army of their energy, of their power, and of many lives. One person had done all that! It was no wonder chaneller's were so feared! Then there was the minister's assassination in 1458, because that chaneller hadn't needed his wand to kill. Galindral had formed an entire army of werewolves (though they still didn't quite understand how he convinced them to join him) and he had been a chaneller. They killed hundreds! The last chaneller known in history had been a serial murderer. They never released her name, but she had realized that if you took all of a wizard's life force, killing them, you could somehow keep their wizarding powers. She had been on her twelfth victim, and was the wizarding world's most feared villain, when she had been smote by a muggle bombing during WWI. Thank god for that too, because she had been approaching an unmatchable magical level, and would have been five times worse then Voldemort had ever dreamed of being if she had continued to steal lives.

So it hadn't been difficult at all for Ron to realize, once he understood the power he was capable of, that he was a threat to the entire wizarding world, and they would react in kind. They couldn't be blamed for this, they had had to many horrible experiences with chanellers to feel any other way. Ron himself was sick at what they had done, and terrified of what he was capable of doing. He had worked hard to control the bubbling energy inside him, but as the days progressed his body had naturally started to absorb the energy of the life around him. He didn't understand how he did this, just that he could. The only other time he had taken enough energy to hurt had been when he summoned the paper to him in a moment of complete and utter stupidity. It hadn't even required thought on his behalf, he had wanted the paper and had summoned it by drawing on the magical strengths of those around him. They had become dizzy.

On top of stealing energy from people, he had noticed that he couldn't refuse it when it was thrust at him. Students with excess energy allowed it to ooze freely from them, and if he was around he automatically absorbed it; he couldn't rebuff it really. There had been times when he couldn't sleep at all because his body was literally overwhelmed with energy, especially after quidditch matches, and most nights he only caught four hours of shut eye. He dealt with it, tried to hide it, and went on with life. Perhaps it was selfish of him, to want to be as normal as possible. He should have told Dumbledore what he was, and allowed the powerful wizard to take necessary action, but he hadn't wanted to lose his life. As the year stretched on he was under no illusions as to how everyone would react. Harry and his family would try to be supportive, but they would always be worried that he would suck them dry like some kind of malicious vampire. The public would panic (and word would get out to them, Harry's past experiences with the paper taught Ron that) and demand that he be locked up. The ministry would want to study him, and then perhaps use his powers to their advantage. He would lose his life, and he was too selfish for that. He wanted to keep his family, he wanted to keep Harry and his other friends, he wanted to keep his life.

But now Ginny had figured something out, and Bill and the twins knew. They would discover the truth soon enough, because there was no hiding anything from them. The worst part was that their reactions would be justified: there was no telling what he could do to hurt people, despite his best intentions. He was a threat, and they would react to that.

Exams were over in three days, and he could no longer hold onto the illusion that everything would be okay.

**TBC**

Notes: Thank you so much for your continuing comments, I really appreciate them! Reviews let me know whether or not people are enjoying the story, and I love all the feedback I can get ;)

**Next Update:** Aug 10, 2005


	12. Chapter 12

**NOTE: When I upload Chapter 14 the Title of this story will be "The Chaneller". I'm sorry to change it, but the current title doesn't sit well with me and while the new one isn't fantastic, it's better then this.**

**Chapter 12**

Ron had been abnormally subdued since he had returned from visiting his family the weekend before. Seeing as he had been late meeting them in Hogsmeade they had been annoyed at first, but after five minutes both Harry and Hermione had realized something was wrong. _Issues with the family_ had been the words Ron muttered in excuse, but despite Harry's egging he hadn't added any further explanation. They both knew that to dig further at that point would have placed Ron on the defensive, and since none of them had time to deal with an argument they let it drop. Harry had cursed himself several times in the following week for leaving the matter alone, because Ron had clammed up tighter then an Order of the Phoenix meeting and had been studiously avoiding them (more so then usual) ever since.

To put it bluntly, Harry was really worried about Ron, and Ron wasn't helping matters at all by trying to force a distance between them. With exams on top of that, and Hermione being more stressed out then Harry had ever seen her, Harry was at a loss as to what to do. He had pulled Ginny aside a few mornings before, and was told how she and her brothers had confronted him about his behaviour on the weekend, and that Ron hadn't taken well to it at all. She hadn't given him details, saying that they were going to meet up with them after exams and get to the bottom of Ron's worries together, and Harry would know, along with the rest of them, what was wrong. Of course, Harry really didn't think that ganging up on Ron was the smartest approach to take, and he said so, which then had her telling him that he really had no clue how Weasley's reacted when being ganged up on, and that it would work. Well, Harry had seen Ron being ganged up on many times in the past, and despite how well the Weasley's thought they knew their sibling, Harry felt that he knew him better. They had been best friends for seven years now, after all. Ron was not going to react well.

Harry was now walking alongside his best mate on their way into Hogsmeade, and they were both trying their best to be happy about the end of exams, and they were both doing a lousy job of it. Harry was upset because the end of exams meant the end of Hogwarts for him, and while he was happy to be growing up (though he sometimes felt years beyond his physical age) leaving school for good signified the end of the life he loved. He was afraid he'd lose contact with all his friends, he was afraid he wouldn't be a good auror despite being 'the boy who lived,' and he was afraid of the responsibilities of being an adult entailed. Then, at the same time, he was so excited he could hardly sit still. However, the air of melancholy that he felt surrounding him and Ron didn't really have much to do with the fact that they were leaving Hogwarts; it had to do with Ron's reason for being so distraught.

They were fast approaching the town of Hogsmeade and he could see the wizards and witches moving about in throngs, only a short distance away. There were other sixth and seventh years who had finished their finals that morning mixed in with the normal crowd of magical folk. As they approached he noticed that they both slowed down their steps to the point where they were almost shuffling. Harry looked up at Ron and the red head grinned sheepishly at him.

"Deja-vu" he muttered and Harry grinned suddenly, despite the gloomy atmosphere that surrounded him.

"Yeah, but we have nothin to worry about, neither of us scheduled a battle with the Dark Lord today…unless there's something your not telling me?" He quirked his eyebrow and Ron laughed.

"The only thing I have scheduled is a drink with my best mate to toast the end of school."

"I'm with you there." They were heading up the cobblestone path towards the Three Broomsticks when a patch of bright red hair began bobbing in and out of sight within the crowd. Ginny hadn't been joking when she said they were going to get Ron after exams, but Harry had hoped they'd give them at least two hours first. He felt his gut clench in frustration and agitation, honestly, what did it take to have a quite drink with a friend? But apparently that was too much to ask this day and Harry sighed to himself.

"Ron, I figure you should know that your family is planning on cornering you soon."

"Yeah, I saw the twins lurking around the town entrance when we came over the hill."

"You okay for this, or do you want to head back to the school? Escape them a bit longer maybe." Harry suggested lightly, trying not to react to grimness that was settling on Ron's features. Honestly, you'd think the end of the world was just around the corner, and knowing that Ron was feeling this out of sorts was enough of a reason for Harry to step between him and his family if need be. The last thing he wanted was for Ron to get hurt any more than he was already acting. Harry watched his freckled face as he squinted into the crowd to pin point his third brother, seeing the sharp blue eyes dart around searchingly a moment, before they suddenly turned their full attention on him. For a moment Harry was embarrassed to have been caught assessing his friend so, but then the embarrassment fell away to anxiety. Ron was looking at him with an earnestness that he hadn't shown in a long time, and intermingled with this was a shadow of fear that couldn't be hidden.

"Harry, there's something…something I need to tell you." He took a steadying breath and continued in the same tone before Harry could interrupt him. "I don't know if I said this enough over the years but, I really- I really am glad that you were my best mate. It's been brilliant, all of it. Okay?" For a moment all Harry could do was stare back at him, absolutely flummoxed. Ron nodded at him and then quickly broke their locked gaze, turning away from him as though he had completed his mission and was preparing to jump off of Big Ben. What the hell had brought that confession on? It wasn't as though Harry didn't feel the same, he honestly couldn't have made it through the last seven years if it hadn't been for Ron at his side, but this was a bit of a desperate confession coming from Ron. Then the taller, completely baffling boy started to walk away from him, going to meet his brother who was pushing his way through the crowd. Well, there was no way Harry was going to let Ron walk away without knowing that Harry felt the same way.

"Ron!" He called, his friend was only a few meters away and he turned half way to look enquiringly at Harry, the fear still set in his eyes. Harry was about to continue when the fear suddenly warped into shock and panic. Ron was raising his arm sharply to point out something behind him and Harry began twisting just as a harsh, gravelly voice rang out.

"_Avada-" _he couldn't see who was about to curse him, and the only thing he had time to do was close his eyes and hope it would be painless. There wasn't even time for true fear "-_Kadavra." _ His breath was suddenly ripped from him and he staggered as though he had been hit with a soft bludger. He waited a fraction of a second, realized that there was no pain lingering and opened his eyes. A man in a dark grey cloak was pointing his wand at Harry, not five feet from him, but not even a trickle of magic flowed from the weapons tip. The haggard man stood there his face frozen with a look of absolute shock, before his eyes rolled into the back of his head and his knees buckled. He fell heavily to the floor and Harry knew he was dead before he hit the ground. Harry's own head began to feel extremely heavy as he stared in shock at the sudden turn of events. He didn't understand what was going on. Shouldn't he be dead?

There was a silence all around him, one of shock no doubt, and through it he heard his name uttered, pitifully, and he turned back to his friend. Ron…Ron looked terrified, and his arm was outstretched in Harry's direction, his face was a sickly pale and Harry couldn't see any of his freckles, though that might have something to do with his own blurring vision. He opened his mouth to tell Ron he was all right, that the curse hadn't worked, but he only managed a rather embarrassing gargling sound before his legs seemed to disappear from beneath him. He thought he heard a strangled scream, something that sounded like _no_, but the blackness was calling him, and he just didn't have the strength to resist.

0000

Something was…off. He felt…off, somehow. This was the first thing he noticed as he slowly came back to consciousness. The second thing he noticed was that he was warm, lying on something soft. Then the ache in his head introduced itself, and he almost jerked in response to the sharp pounding. Slowly the ache seemed to travel down his body, his shoulders were in knots, his arms were heavy, his stomach was cramping in an uncomfortable fashion, even his toes tensed slightly, as though he had stood on their tips longer than was smart. He took a deep breath, and tried to will the ache away, to release it into the mattress he was lying on. After what felt like an hour, though was only minutes at most, he finally felt his body relax and he sighed in relief. He felt ready to move his attentions elsewhere, and the first question he had was _where the bloody heck am I?_

He cracked open his eyes and squinted around, trying to clear his blurred vision. The infirmary? He coughed harshly and reached over to the bedside table, finding a small cup of water. It wasn't enough to quench his thirst, but he greedily drank it down, relieved as the dryness in his throat disappeared. He looked around the brightly lit area, the sun was traveling across the stone floor through several windows on the west side of hospital, causing each particle of dust traveling through it to glimmer. Thankfully there was nobody else in the beds, but he had to wonder, in his foggy state, why nobody was here waiting with him. Harry had never left him to wake up alone if he didn't have to, and Madame Pomfry certainly didn't leave her patients to wake up without reassurances that they would recover fully. Alarm flooded through him: Maybe he wasn't going to recover, and she didn't want to be the bearer of bad news.

He lurched up in his bed and had to lean against the bed board, bracing himself from the sudden dizziness. There was still an ache residing throughout his body, and the damn fizzbangs wouldn't stop exploding inside his head, but other then that he didn't feel like anything was wrong. He had all his limbs, far as he could see, and he had no new limbs so that was good. He relaxed against the cool surface, realizing that he was being stupid. Pomfry probably had somewhere to be, and Harry and Hermione, they were probably off doing…something. Then he noticed a muffled sound, much like cheering, filtering through the windows. What could that be coming from? He turned his head sharply then, looking at the window to his left though he couldn't see out of it properly from where he lay. The quidditch pitch was on the west side of Hogwarts, so that would mean that a game was going on…he blinked, frowning hard, and tried to remember if there was a game he should be playing in. That wouldn't be right though, seeing as exams were over. This must be the charity game then…he sucked in a harsh breath, a burning fear began to overlay the knot his stomach was already in and he tried to think back.

Exams: over. Walking to town with Harry to celebrate; seeing his brother's hair in the crowd and knowing that his secret would soon be out, that he would have to leave. The fear that had slowly been eating away at him the past few months and had been momentarily forgotten, came rushing back. Oh god! They were going to hate him! He knew it was the only reasonable reaction they could have, he _knew_ he was dangerous. He had had a moment of pure panic, just before he had to meet his brothers and sister for what would be their last argument as his family (for they would have to disown him), and he had gushed out how he felt to Harry. It had been pathetic really, a last dive to harbour Harry's loyalty as a friend even though he knew it was a selfish thing to do. He supposed he wanted it noted that he didn't regret their friendship despite everything.

Then…he was walking away, because Harry didn't have anything to really say in return, which wasn't that unusual considering that they were eighteen year old boys and it wasn't really in their nature to gush their feelings. The memories were rushing back suddenly, as though it had happened only moments before. Harry called him, he turned, and he had seen the grey shrouded wizard pointing his wand at Harry's back. Black eyes, he had black eyes and they were wrathful and he had a smile on his face as he began to clearly utter the killing curse. Harry! There had been no time to do anything but react! It took the course of two seconds to use the curse, nobody knew anything was going on, and there was no chance of Ron getting his wand to stop the man, or even push his friend out of the way! He had raised his arm, pointing at the aggressor as Harry had started to turn. His green eyes had been so shocked, Ron remembered every detail of his friends face in that moment. Harry hadn't been afraid, he was shutting his eyes and Ron reacted in kind.

He remembered! He remembered! His breathing became laboured and he was beginning to sweat in his bed, his legs shifting restlessly as he thought back to the previous day. Harry! The Death Eater, and there was no doubt in Ron's mind that that was what the wizard was, began throwing his curse and Ron had panicked. He blindly summoned the beings energy in desperation and it was ripped, ruthlessly, from him. Ron had felt it enter his own body and then rush out into the ground through his feet as his body automatically purged the evil aura. The curse had been spoken, but the Death Eater's wand failed to produce, and people suddenly froze as the evil curse carried through the air…Harry staggered. Oh Merlin! Harry staggered, and Ron stared at him in horror; he had taken some of Harry's energy too! He felt it within him. The Death Eater collapsed, dead, but Ron hadn't been able to feel any remorse as Harry was looking back at him; his green eyes were glazed in confusion. Ron froze, no matter how much he had wanted to go to his friend he had been frozen to the spot. Harry had opened his mouth, a weak gurgle emerged, and then his eyes rolled back in his head, just like the dead wizard behind him, and he fell.

"No." He whimpered now in the suddenly cold hospital wing. He clutched his head in his hands, pulling at his hair. "No." Harry wasn't in the bed next to him, and Harry wasn't waiting for him to wake up…Harry's eyes had rolled into the back of his head and he…he had…Ron sobbed a deep breath in and felt the tears welling in his eyes. He tried to blink them back, calm his breathing, even as the overwhelming emotions flooded him. "No, no, nonono!" He threw his arms down and ripped the bed covers off, standing up urgently. Harry couldn't be dea…gone! He couldn't! Ron could not have killed him! He would have known if he had! He fell back on the bed as his legs refused to cooperate for a moment, and he pushed himself up, readying to try standing again. Then he looked around. The room was empty, completely deserted.

Pomfrey wasn't there to make sure he was okay, Harry…Hermione wasn't there, none of his brothers or sister was there, his parents…nobody was there at all to greet him, or yell at him, or disown him. Nobody was there, which meant that he must have killed Har…he must have taken too much of his friends energy along with the Death Eaters. The door to the hospital wing suddenly burst open and Ron wrenched around as Minister Fudge (because it wasn't only muggles that re-elected idiots), red faced and puffing as though out of breath, headed straight at Ron, fury in his eyes. Apparently he wasn't afraid of Ron yet, despite the fact that he was homicidal. Ron didn't flinch as the short man stopped right in front of him and glared down, his bowler hat pushed back on his forehead, before he pulled back his arm as if to slap Ron. He hesitated a moment and then dropped it, settling instead for pacing a furious two step path in front of him.

"You! You!" He spluttered, at a loss for what to say, but Ron was already tuning him out with long practiced ease as his body began to shake and his headache came back and all he could think about was how Harry's eyes had rolled back into his head and he had fallen like a potato sac to the cobbled path. Ron had screamed, he remembered suddenly losing control and screaming for Harry, wanting him to wake up so desperately that he wasn't even aware of what he was doing. He had meant to go to him, but he had fallen, tripping over his own feet, scraping his hands bloody on the ground before passing out in oblivion. He looked at his hands, they were fine now, even normal he supposed, for a killer.

"You should be appalled! Hiding something of this magnitude from us for so long!"

"Appalled isn't quite the word I would use." He heard himself saying, stopping Fudge's rant abruptly. He couldn't stop looking at his hands, but he could see the minister only a foot away in his peripheral vision. He had to find out what really happened to Harry. "Harry?" He had wanted to say something more intelligent, but his throat seized on him suddenly, just saying his friends name had been hard enough.

"How dare you ask about him!" Fudge was furious and Ron flinched back at his hiss, feeling the numbness of shock beginning to run through him. How dare indeed. Ron had his answer, he had killed his best friend, the one person in his life that meant as much to him as his closest brother, only they had been closer. He had killed the man he had sworn to protect. He had accomplished what Voldemort hadn't, despite the fact that he hadn't done it intentionally. That was cold comfort.

"…should go to Azkaban!" Ron instantly tuned back into Fudge's fury, not catching the entire sentence. "Something so serious can not be forgiven, though I suppose there are ways around it." The ministers beady brown eyes focused on him sharply and Ron stared back, breaking out of his painful stupor. Azkaban, he deserved to go there, he knew he did…but he couldn't. Fudge was looking at him with a hungry glint in his eyes and he stared back, not fully understanding what the minister was saying. Azkaban…

"I can't go to Azkaban." He replied, weakly, and Fudge looked like he had to strain to hear him even in the silent room. Cheers erupted on the quidditch field and he felt anger blossom within. How dare they celebrate that stupid game at a time like this! Harry was dead! Didn't they know what that meant!

"What? You will do whatever I decide!" Fudge fumed, eyes glinting in a way that Ron would have thought predatory if he wasn't so lost in his emotions. No, he couldn't go to Azkaban, and he couldn't let the ministry have him. He deserved it, Merlin he knew he did, but to be locked up in there! They would have complete control over him, and if they had that kind of control over him…this power they could have…he wasn't so far gone in grief that he didn't know exactly how dangerous that was. He had been thinking about this for a long time now, after all. They would be able to fake his death all too easily, make him disappear for their own purposes. He shuddered; he couldn't let that happen.

"No." His voice still wavered, but he held firm. "I will not put myself in a position that would allow the Ministry, or others, power over me." The minister went to speak again but Ron ignored him as he turned to look at his bedside table. His wand was there, sitting beside the cup that he had drank from a lifetime ago. He reached over and picked it up, but the minister didn't seem to notice this rather drastic action, being too furious with Ron to pay proper attention. Ron prayed to all that was magical that he would one day be forgiven for his actions of the last twenty four hours.

"You are not in a position to ever demand such rights! You are a chaneller, and need to be controlled!" Fudge yelled, and Ron pointed his wand at the man.

"Petrificus totalus." He commanded, and the red faced man toppled forward onto the bed, his arms and legs pulling tightly to him. Ron jumped up and quickly pulled the covers off, then used his not inconsiderable strength to roll the minister on to the mattress, covering him with the blanket. Ron was certain he was going to be sent to live with Dementors and Tom Riddle in his afterlife. He looked at his hand still clutching his wand, his knuckles were white around the grip and his entire arm seemed to be shaking. It was a wonder he had pulled off the charm successfully.

He stared at the wand, unable to help himself as the polished wood shone so warmly. He wouldn't keep it; he didn't have the right to be armed with it after what he had done. He had lived with magic for so long now that suddenly not having his wand would be handicapping him in a way he had never known before. Breathing was becoming difficult for him as he stared. Harry wouldn't be using his wand anymore, so Ron shouldn't have his own. But, before he snapped it…he pointed it at himself.

"_Na recados._" The blue light sparkled around him, turned black, and disappeared. He had cast a spell that would hide him from magical seekers, such as owls. If messages could reach him, then the ministry could find him. Sirius had told him about that charm one _late_ evening at Grimauld Place, but had said he'd never used it because then Harry and the Order wouldn't have been able to contact him if they needed to. Funny that he had remembered this charm so easily when he usually had trouble with some of the simplest spells. He gripped his wand tightly in both hands and, with minimal hesitation, snapped the well polished wood in half, noting off handed that the unicorn hair kept the pieces uselessly attached. He stared at it, numb, snapping ones own wand…he dropped it to the ground, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw white and took deep calming breaths. He had made a choice now, and he had to stick to it. He dropped his hands, waited for his vision to clear, and then headed for the hospital door. There was no one outside, and he began to jog to Gryffindor tower. He passed two Ravenclaws, who jumped out of his way and stared at him in confusion when he didn't return their happy greetings. He didn't have time for them, he had to get out of Hogwarts before somebody realized what he had done.

"Nicker neclace!" He gasped and the fat lady swung her portrait door open.

"Dear! Why aren't you at the game? Everyone who…" Her voice trailed off as he disappeared into the stairwell and rushed up to his room. Bursting inside he headed straight for his bed. Everything he had was neatly packed up, waiting to be taken home after the game was through. He stared at his trunk blankly a moment, and a hollowness engulfed his chest, aching in misery. He looked over at Harry's bed, staring. Harry's firebolt was lying carefully across his blankets, just where he'd left it after their last exam. Ron turned away sharply and angrily wiped at the tear that had escaped. He would cry later.

He pulled open his trunk and grabbed his empty book bag, stuffing it with another set of pants, the maroon sweater his mum had knit him at Christmas, and a few other items. He dug around until he found his money bag, hidden beneath his dirty underwear (it had been a good idea at the time), and he threw it into his sac. There were a few chocolates in there that he grabbed as well, but he left everything else. He had enough money saved from his venture with the twins, that he would be okay for a week, maybe two. He would work something out, wherever he was at that time. He changed from his hospital garb to whatever he pulled from his trunk, threw his robe on hastily, and secured his bag over his back. He ran to the door and locked it as he heard heavy footsteps thundering up from the common room, knowing that that wouldn't hold them out. He twirled around, panicked, and saw his clean sweep lying on the floor beside his trunk.

"Up!" He commanded and it flew into his hand even though he was a good three meters away. He didn't notice this as there was a sudden banging on his door.

"Ron! Ron open up!" _Don't open, don't open, don't open_ Ron silently pleaded as he hurried to the thin window. How the heck was he going to do this?

"_Alohamora_!" He heard Lupin yell at the door, and there was no doubt that it was Lupin. The door didn't budge. Ron looked at the window, it would be a tight squeeze, and there was a bloody good reason none of them had ever tried taking joyrides past curfew during their entire stay at Hogwarts. If you didn't manage to get on the broom, you would be scraped off the ground from ten stories below with one of Hagrid's giant shovels.

"_Alohomora_! Ron! Don't do anything stupid!" Ron looked at the window. He could do this, no problem. He could hear two more people running up the stairs of Gryffindor tower.

"I'm sorry!" He muttered as he smashed the glass with his broom handle and put his right arm through the now open window, holding his broom. He followed with his right leg, sliding through.

"Ron! What was that? Ron!" The other two had joined the werewolf. "_Alohomora_!" The door burst open under the three wizards strength and Ron threw himself out the window, somehow managing to sit on his broom and push off before they could grab him. It was a windy day, and Ron didn't look back to see the hate and anger on Lupin's face as he took off in the direction of the forbidden forest, flying as fast as his broom would carry him. After a moment of flying through the warm air he risked a glance over his shoulder and saw that two people were trying to catch up to him, but he couldn't see who.

"Come on, move!" He urged the broom to move faster, he was over Hagrid's hut now. A few hundred more meters and he would be able to apparate. He looked behind him, to see Madame Hooch and Professor McGonagall closing in, McGonagall looked livid as she raced to get him. He forced his feelings down and bent forward more, he was almost there now…just a little further…he felt the subtle shift in the atmosphere (one he had never noticed before this last year) as he left the ward of Hogwarts school and, without wasting another second, he apparated.

**TBC**

Sooo….want to know what happens next? I'm going away for three weeks so you're going to have to wait.

No, I'm kidding. I wouldn't do that to all you terrific people who have been reviewing. It is really encouraging to know that people are reading and enjoying the story! Honestly! You have no idea how much I smile when I read your comments. It makes the effort that much more worth it!

_Greenpuff_, I hope you have a great vacation! _Kamonkey_, I would like to answer your question, but that would take away some of the anticipation wouldn't it:P

I will say this however: get ready for some more drama! I like that, action/adventure, angst, emotional turmoil…my friends have informed me that my mind works strangely

**NOTE: When I upload Chapter 14 the Title of this story will be "The Chaneller". I'm sorry to change it, but the current title doesn't sit well with me and while the new one isn't fantastic, it's better then this.**

**Next update: August 12, 2005** -yes, as some of you have noticed I am sort of following a pattern. I need the time to read through the chapter and make sure it still makes sense :)


	13. Chapter 13

**Warning:** Beware that the content of this next chapter deals with dark and mature subject matter. Reader's discretion is advised!

We'll rate this chapter as** PG16 **(is there such a rating?) to be safe.

**Chapter 13**

It was dank, cold, and smelled of spilt wine and wet rock, but he had stopped noticing this almost instantly after he had awoken and found himself in this place. That must have been over a month ago now, at the least; he didn't have much sense of time seeing as there were no windows and he was awoken whenever his host felt obliged. Nowadays he barely even noticed the chill in the air having become so accustomed to it, though he still sometimes caught himself longing for a blanket or hot bath. He shifted on his cot, feeling the old material slide under his back as he woke up from his light doze. He turned his head to gaze through the darkness but didn't see any reason for his awakening, and he rolled his eyes up to stare blankly at the ceiling. Giles wasn't there, so the wizard must be upstairs sleeping.

Ron quietly pulled his arms to his chest and began toying with the many bands that encircled them. Where he usually felt hate towards the objects, at the moment he could only muster up a slight aggravation. He counted them in his head, noting that there were five on his right wrist and three on his left. Hmm, it looked like Giles was trying to toy with his mind again by changing his normal routine of four bands on each wrist. It was stupid, and Ron figured it meant nothing, so he didn't let the change bother him. Instead he entertained himself by fiddling with the bands, and ignoring the burning that agitated his wrists due to their presence. Despite the fact that he had a chain engulfing his ankle and attaching him to the wall in his little offset room, these bangles were the objects responsible for his continued captivity. Giles had happily described to him his acquirement of the dead Angazi crystal (though Ron had never heard of it and suspected that it was one of the few dark crystals in existence) and explained how its purpose was to leach energy instead of giving it. The man had programmed it to his chosen energies, ground it up into powder, mixed it with a massive list of material Ron also didn't recognize, and then blended it in with melted silver, forming the eight bands he now wore. Silver was a pure metal, but when mixed with Giles' ingredients it made Ron's ability to channel energies almost non existent. Add to that the anti-apparating spells that surrounded this place and Ron was trapped.

He tightened his hand around his wrist painfully for a moment, aggravating the already swollen flesh and grimacing as he did so. This abominated silver couldn't kill him, as Giles had happily demonstrated to him in several…unconventional ways since Ron had arrived. Ron had always been taught that silver was a valued conductor among many magical beings, and he supposed that, had it been pure, it wouldn't cause him any harm, however; he was fairly certain that if he ever got out of this place he would never wear the metal again.

When he had first awoken in this place, on the very same cot he lay stiffly on now, he had felt as though he'd been muzzled somehow, cut off from his basic methods of protection. He had looked over and seen Giles, dressed from head to foot in flashy silver robes, staring at him. He had silver eyes, though Ron still suspected that they were unnatural. The irony of his situation had not been lost on him as he had awoken, seeing as he had escaped from Hogwarts only hours before to avoid being controlled in any sense, only to be abducted. The humour hadn't lasted long, however, as his creepy captor had continued staring at him in silence. Ron didn't have the energy to say anything. They had sat for what must have been close to an hour in silence, Ron desperately trying to ignore the feeling of being watched so studiously.

"You are quite the prize Mr. Weasley." The voice had been so silky and smooth, promising rainbows, he had sounded surprisingly similar to Lucius Malfoy. "Can you imagine! Apparating from Hogwarts all the way to Brussel in two jumps when even Dumbledore needs to apparate three times, and you're still only a child." He had seemed immensely pleased by this and Ron had only stared in confusion, fear, and anger. What was this chap blithering about? How could he possibly know how far Ron had jumped? Alas, he seemed to have anticipated the question and he had, unnervingly happily, explained to Ron exactly how he had arrived in his clutches.

"You may not recognize me, Ronald, but we've actually met several times, especially this last year…" Giles had been a Death Eater, partnered with the one Ron had killed the previous day in fact (though he didn't seem at all sad to have lost his friend), and had been on the sidelines with Voldemort in that final battle. He had heard his dark lord call Ron a chaneller (the bugger had the hearing of a bat even when he wasn't in his animagus form), and he had stalked Ron, with the aide of his partner, his entire seventh year. Ron hadn't had a clue, even when, on three separate occasions, Giles and his partner had knocked into him at Hogsmeade. They had slowly placed an untraceable tracking charm on Ron by pouring the potion onto his robes, where it permeated to his skin and was absorbed into his body. Giles had a special globe that marked Ron's location at all times, much like his families clock only more sophisticated. He had followed Ron to his hotel room, where he had found him passed out from the stress of his apparation, and happily portkeyed him to this large, dark cellar. Ron had absolutely no idea where he was, he could be in Canada for all he knew.

"We had such grand plans, Malbus and I, but alas his loyalty to the Dark Lord had clouded his ambitions. He had been so patient, I suppose I should have known he would snap and try to kill the Potter boy. You know-" Giles had trailed off thoughtfully for a moment, "I don't think he ever believed you were a chaneller, he was just going along with my plans for entertainment. Hm, his loss." He had heartily slapped Ron on the shoulder then, as though he was a good friend, and Ron had shrunk back but been unable to avoid the touch. He had yet to figure a way to get the crazy wizard to stop touching him, petting him, every time he felt like it. Sometimes he feared there was more in the touch then simple provocation, but he chalked that up to over reading the situation. He still hated the touch as much as he hated the man.

Ron had taken to sleeping at scattered intervals, always waiting for Giles to come down and start his next bout of 'training,' or to whip him into more submission, or to simply practice some of his dark curses on him. Imperious was one that he seemed particularly keen on, and it was the one that terrified Ron the most. Despite the pain the others could cause, this was where he lost his self control, and if Giles could maintain control over Ron he could be coerced into doing unspeakable things. Three days before he had been placed under the charm, had his silver bangles removed, and made to take all the energy of a beautiful white cat, and then a black one, and he hadn't been allowed to channel all of their energy back into the earth. That had taken the course of four minutes, until he had been able to start putting strain on the curse that held him. Giles replaced the bangles, and locked him on his cot just as he regained self control and promptly vomited onto the floor.

He had wanted to die then, knowing that that was exactly how he had killed Malbus and…Harry. Leached their energy, thankfully he hadn't kept it within himself. Giles had explained that this was why Ron had been in the hospital after that fateful afternoon; it took a lot of energy to separate one from their own life force, and seeing as he was so new to his powers it had overwhelmed him (again if the battle with Voldemort was anything to go by). His body had needed the time to adapt. He was learning more here then he ever thought he would about his gifts, and most of it just made him sick. Sucking out people's lives while you were a hundred yards away was not a skill Ron wanted to master. A day after he had taken the lives of the two helpless felines he had discovered that he could see almost clearly in the dark: apparently in their case he had integrated a genetic trait. He tried to not think about it.

As it was Giles was forcing him to train in an assortment of odd things, and when he said forced it was only half meant. Being locked up down here was driving him up the walls. Sometimes he didn't know whether he should cower at the approach of his abductor, or look forward to the distraction he would provide. After his nightmares, that left Ron crying out as he woke himself up, he was more then ready for anything that would wipe the image of Harry as his eyes rolled into his head and he fell dead to the ground from his head. Even the pain, which always fit into whatever they did as a method of control and malice, was welcomed after such moments, and he sometimes relished in it, knowing it was deserved. Giles didn't hold back either, and had been delighted that, despite the bangles, Ron was able to gather just enough energy in his body to heal himself faster than was natural.

What would his family and peers think to see him this way? Some days he would be given a weapon and taught to wield it, other times he was pit against animate dummies to learn how to fight. Then he would be taught to do the waltz and tango and it was so bizarre that he himself didn't know what to think. Fred and George might have gotten a kick out of seeing him try to learn the proper steps with a dressed up life size doll, but he doubted they would have been amused at him being punished for not doing it right. Then again, they might, seeing as their youngest brother was a murderer and killed their adopted brother. Thinking about his family usually left him with a headache, but he hadn't cried for their loss yet, and he hadn't been able to cry for Harry. It was cold, it was heartless, and he couldn't find it within himself to mourn his best friend. He hoped that this was because his mind refused to mourn in such a desolate place, as it wouldn't do Harry the honour he deserved.

When he was free and away from this cold prison he would say goodbye to his friend, but not until then. He suspected it wouldn't be long now, seeing as he was almost capable of breaking the Imperius curse. All he had to do was break it before Giles could put the bangles back on, and then he would knock the wizard out, call the appropriate authorities, and disappear to some far away and secluded place where people wouldn't even think to look for him. He would decide what to do after that once he got there.

His thoughts were interrupted as he heard a heavy door open and close loudly, and the steps of Giles approached him. He sat up hastily and leaned against the wall, the cold stone seeped through his thin t-shirt and, where there were holes, seemed to freeze his skin. He watched the small entry way to his corner and waited for the wizard to show his face, there was a glow from a lantern in the spacious room beyond the entrance, and it made the shadows seem deeper. Ron could only ever see a bit of that room when he was chained to his cot, but it was where he spent all his time when he was being educated. He listened intently, trying to guess Giles's purpose for this meeting, but he wasn't able to garner anything from the sounds. With a practiced flare the wizard, dressed in black pants and a button up shirt instead of his usual silver robe, entered the room. He stared at Ron in his normal, unnerving manner, and then dropped the chains he had been carrying. Ron eyed them suspiciously and looked back at the only other human he'd seen in this last month as he carefully placed a bag against the wall.

"Well Ronald, it seems you are in for a treat tonight." Ron's blood ran cold at the tone of voice he used; it was different than normal and a bit husky. He rubbed at his wrists and wished for the thousandth time that the damn silver bands didn't exist, that he wasn't here, that he wasn't a chaneller, and that Harry wasn't dead. Well, his wishes had never been answered before, and they weren't about to start now.

"I think I'll pass, if it's all the same." He said calmly and watched as Giles hooked the four chains to four separate rings in the floor, feeling anything but calm.

"No, no. I think you ought to be here for this, seeing as it's all about you." The man stood and pulled his wand casually, as though it were a pen. "_Imperius_" he charged, and Ron was once again trapped within his mind. He saw as Giles approached and hurriedly unclasped his ankle manacle, and he fought for all he was worth as his body stood and moved to the chains, laying down and allowing the man to shackle each limb so he was spread on the floor like a sacrifice, his arms above his head. It was only a moment later that he regained control of his motor functions and he swore as he tested the new bonds and found, in horror, that he was well and truly stuck. He looked up and glared at the wizard, unnerved by the slightly glazed look in his eyes.

"Let me up you bastard! Yer a fuckin loon if you think I'm gonna let you do…whatever it is yer gonna do!" He pulled hard on his right arm, feeling the sharp sting as his flesh was tested against metal, especially as his wrists were already irritated by his personalized bangles. But Giles didn't seem to hear his cursing, which was usually enough to distract him form his original intentions.

"It's the full moon tonight, and I really don't think we have the time to hold off on this spell any longer. I would have begun last full moon, but I wasn't sure of the proper annunciation of the passage, it's not my native tongue you see." He had pulled a small jar from the bag and slowly walked around Ron, leaving a trail of brown powder, before he went and picked up a bottle of some liquid. "Drink this." Ron responded by pressing his lips firmly together and turning his head away. Giles knelt down behind him swiftly and locked Ron's head firmly between his knees. He plugged Ron's nose with one hand until Ron was dizzy with the need for oxygen and gasped. He couldn't turn away as the vile liquid was poured into his mouth, and he was stopped from spitting it out as his jaw was clamped shut with a strong hand. He swallowed and choked and Giles moved around to his side after an affectionate pat to the head.

"I know it tastes bad, but I'm sure you'll have worse. Now, I know you're shy, but you won't be needing your clothes for this." He cut away Ron's useless shirt and his pants, jerking them roughly out from beneath him and leaving him panting heavily in fear of loosing his underpants as well. He was beginning to feel a bit light headed, but he forced the sensation back as he watched Giles with all his might, willing him to leave him with the small covering. "I suppose I don't need to take those off at this point." The man stood and stepped over Ron, heading back to his bag.

"What are you doing?" He gasped out, shivering in the cold as he lay on the damp stone. The chains rattled with each movement as he kept trying to squirm out of them. The silver eyes looked down at him in glee, and a cold smile broke out on his face.

"Why Ron, you didn't actually think I'd trust you to do my bidding when the time came did you? Honestly, all this grooming isn't to benefit yourself, and if I mean for you to help me you have to be mine, completely." He walked over and lightly drizzled a heavily scented oil on Ron's chest; it burned like acid, but when he looked down to check he saw that his skin wasn't slowly melting away. He jerked as a cold hand smeared some of the oil onto his forehead and then into his hair before the being left him again and pulled a small, leather bound book from the bag. Ron gasped at the pain of the oil and felt his back scraping on the rough stone.

"I'm not a bloody trinket, you can't own me." He gasped out, which earned him a laugh.

"Dear boy, I already do. This is just your taming." He carefully opened the book and looked over Ron's wriggling body carefully. "Richard of York Gave Battle in Vain." The man muttered and Ron paused in his struggle. What?

"Colour spectrum." Giles intoned, answering the unspoken question. "Have you figured out what I'm going to do yet?"

"No." he spat and looked warily at the smoke that began to arise around him from the brown powder.

"My specialty as the Dark Lords servant was learning and implementing spells of the Dark Arts that had been long forgotten. This one is called Chakra Incantata, and as far as I know I am the only one who is aware of its existence."

"I s'pose that's somthin fer a useless has bin." Ron growled.

"Watch your tongue Mr. Weasley, because as much as I can appreciate your sometimes vulgar conversation, I don't need you to have a tongue to be my servant." Ron glared. "The Chakra" Giles slid into his lecture mode "is the source of the bodies powers, and it is derived from the colour spectrum. What we are going to be doing tonight, is the first of eight casting rituals that will allow me access to the workings of your power centers. The Imperius curse is weakening on you, I can see that as clear as day light, so now we will begin a binding of slave to master in a way that hasn't been practiced in centuries." Ron was trying to pay attention but the burning on his chest and head, as well as the fumes from the smoke were beginning to obstruct his focus. He did notice when his torturer began to strip out of his own clothes until he was clad in nothing but European under garments. He choked but found that his voice was strangely absent.

His vision began to blur and his eyes leaked tears in response to the stinging of the smoky air. His struggles were reduced to pathetic tugs at the bonds, no longer enough strength behind them to hurt. He lost sense of time, hearing a voice reciting the same words over and over again until Ron himself was repeating them in his mind. Giles's pale body was glistening with sweat, illuminated in the pale lantern light as he stood at Ron's feet. He watched through half lidded eyes, repulsed by the muscular form standing over him, finding it difficult, even in his distraction, not to notice the way the knife gleamed in his large hand as it was pointed at him.

Time seemed to jump from one moment to the next and there was a heavy weight settling on his thighs as the dark wizard straddled him; he tried to heave him off, but only succeeded in shaking his body. The air, the smoke, and Giles was cutting his own thumb and leaning forward, pressing the blood onto his skin just above his privates. A weak wailing escaped his throat as Ron watched, transfixed, terrified, confused…_Muladhara_. The word was chanted, and then there was a sharp pain as the dagger split his skin. The thumb smeared again below his naval, _Svadhisthana_, another sharp pain. _Manipura_, a sharp pain above his navel. _Anahata_, the cut must have gone right down to his sternum and he bucked a bit, feeling his panic deepen, feeling the heavy weight of the man as he moved to sit on his stomach. _Get off get off get off getoffgetoffgetoff_. _Vishyddha_, the base of his neck; _Ajna_, between his eyebrows; and _Sahasara_, the top of his head. Bile rose in his throat as Giles slit his palm and began smearing his blood into each of Ron's wounds, blending his blood in Ron's seven major chakra's, his spirit of energy.

He could feel the taint of the other man seep into him, a violation far worse then any he had imagined. He was stealing the power over his soul.

**TBC**

**NOTE: When I upload Chapter 14 the Title of this story will be "The Chaneller". I'm sorry to change it, but the current title doesn't sit well with me and while the new one isn't fantastic, it's better then this.**

I sit here and twiddle my thumbs nervously as I await your reactions. Two of my closest friends made the comment that while they were waiting for a twist along

this line, they didn't think the general world of fanfiction readers would be prepared. Especially after the events of the previous chapter!

Kamonkey, you and ever other person who keeps reviewing this story Roc as well!

Catc10…that's kind of stalkerish isn't it:P

Blaaat. Thank you. While it would be nice to have more people read the story it is the quality of the reviews and so far all have been extremely encouraging! The beginning of the story is slow, and I feel it turns people away, but I wanted to make sure that there was a proper introduction and lead up to the more dramatic and juicy bits :) As for the rashness of Ron breaking his wand…well, after reading JK Rowlings books I felt that Ron's character was focused more to reacting to his feelings that fully thinking things through. He's loud and volatile, can be funny and witty, but he tends to take his actions to the extreme. That coupled with his lack of self worth and yes, the stress of killing his best friend as you said, is causing him to take actions to the extreme.

As for the title…there are still many chapters to come and they will make it clear as to why I called it "Ron Weasley and the Dragon Lord" but it is the length of time it takes to get to that explanation that is also convincing me that the title needs changing.

Well everyone, there's loads more to come so sit tight!

**Next Update:** August 14, 2005


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

"Again!" He barked out the order and Ron jumped up, grabbing the thick beam two feet above him, ignoring the few splinters that dug into his hands. He swung his body and climbed up, then jumped to the heavy rope that dangled from the high ceiling a good three meters away, feeling the sharpburn in his hands as he stopped his down slide. He climbed the rope for five meters to the next beam that formed the magically extended dungeon, and ran lightly across the narrow wood until he came to a series of floating plates. Giles had them floating by magic, and some were meant to fall under Ron's weight while others would allow him to safely hop back to the ground. He moved fast, taking only a moment to brush the sweat out of his eyes before leaping from one to the other, not thinking about whether he was choosing the right landings, just moving on instinct. He had been doing this for the last two hours, and if he didn't get it right this time he wouldn't have the energy to try it again. He jumped the last meter and a half to the ground, rolled on his shoulder and came up, throwing his knife at the dummy suspended in the corner of the room. He missed it by about three feet. Shit. He stood up, slightly cramped from the painful stitch in his side and slowly turned to face Giles. The wizard looked more amused then anything, but Ron could sense an undercurrent of disappointment at his performance. He really hoped the wizard wasn't too upset.

"Well, I suppose I expected too much from you Ronald." The man stared at him unflinchingly and Ron forced himself to stay still, waiting for more. "I guess I had it set in my mind that a chaneller would be an extraordinary individual, but alas you are a disappointment when it comes to weapons." _And you're a disappointment when it comes to humanity_ Ron thought, but as much as he would have liked to voice his opinion, he couldn't, not when Giles had forbidden him to speak. Giles picked up the fallen weapon and examined it a moment before tossing it into the corner, along with all the other blades that had been abandoned in the last six months. Ron was glad to see it go; he hated the feel of metal in his hands. Giles tisk'd at the pile and turned to gaze at Ron in that peculiar way of his. Ron felt a shiver of unease travel up his spine and through his shoulders; he never knew what the wizard was thinking when he looked at him like that.

"However you don't really need a weapon, seeing as you are one in your own right. Stand up straight." Ron snapped to attention, the pain in his side still very much alive. "Your agility has improved in leaps over these few months, and I am happy with your balance and climbing capabilities. I suppose those cats gave you more then just sight in darkness hmmm." _Too bad I didn't get their claws, it would have been fun to scratch your eyes out._ It was true that Ron found balance much easier then he used to, but he was well aware that it was the endless hours of training that Giles had him performing that gave him the edge, not the cats (as a young child he had been forever climbing the biggest trees he could find, until his parents stopped helping him out of them). Knowing why he was being trained so ruthlessly though, made his new physical skills seem more worrisome than beneficial.

"Clumsy as a new born when it comes to blades." Giles was repeating things to himself again, as he oft did around Ron, pretending as though he wasn't even there. Well honestly, what did he expect? Ron was a far cry from a master fighter, and the metal felt so unnatural in his hands. He knew that given a stone he could hit anything, and he was sure that if he was given free range of his chanelling energies his precision would only increase. Lucius Malfoy could relate that point. Sometimes he wanted to believe that his lack of skill with knives was due to some last dredge of resistance on his part as he tried to defy the man who had almost _complete_ control of him. He looked away from Giles, ignoring the red hair that fell over his eyes like a curtain and blocked his vision, as he remembered exactly when he had begun to lose what little control he'd had.

That first night, when Giles had cut him and forced his blood into him, that was when Ron had lost his control. He had woken up the next day, sore as anything and lying curled on the floor in his 'room.' He had been cleaned and dressed in clothes that must have been hand-me-downs from the wizard himself. They hung off Ron's tall and lanky frame loosely but managed to cling to his body. He had thrown up, trying to purge his body of the toxin he had felt pressed into him, but it hadn't helped at all. When his captor had shown up he had told him to stand up. It had been much more difficult to defy that order than Ron had been happy with, and he had been on his knees before he realized what he was doing and stopped himself from standing fully. That had led to a month of reminding himself harshly that he _did not_ want to do what Giles said. After the second full moon Ron hadn't been able to deny responding to simpler requests. Then the third moon and fourth moon had come and Ron had been throwing up in fear days before Giles came to him with the oil and the smoke and that bloody knife. Maybe that was why Ron couldn't wield blades.

Whatever the reason, Ron couldn't resist orders anymore, he couldn't speak out of turn, couldn't mouth off, couldn't stop doing exercises until his body literally collapsed under him. It was worse then Imperius, he was trapped in his mind, but he didn't feel distant from his body. It was much different then that. If Giles gave him an order he followed it, but now he actively worked to make sure he accomplished the best result he could. If Giles told him to kill the Prime Minister, then Ron would fly halfway across the world, plan the entire assassination, follow through with it, and then return to this hell hole without any hesitation. It didn't matter how much he didn't want to do it, he would. He feared that after the completion of the eighth ceremony he wouldn't even be able to control his thoughts anymore; he would cease to exist. At the present time he was praying to all that was magical and/or spiritual that the ministry would find him and kill him. Anything would be better then this.

"I suppose it's better this way, actually!" Giles snapped Ron's attention back to his present. "Seeing as it's muggles we'll be going after, not carrying any weapons will misdirect their suspicion from you should they, for some outrageous reason, get their hands on you." Ron's example of killing a Prime Minister wasn't at all farfetched, seeing as it was muggle's, not magical folk, that Giles was training Ron to assassinate. Apparently the right connections could make the wizard a ton of money in their world, not to mention power. What was worse was that the wizards might never suspect that any of the assassinations would be magical in source, and would refrain from investigating. Giles had been living in the muggle world for so long now that he bragged of how his existence was not even known within regular wizarding circles. Only the Death Eaters really knew he was around, and all of this information had done nothing to raise Ron's hopes of being accidentally discovered.

"Look at you boy, don't you have any pride in appearance?" It was a redundant question, seeing as Ron could only see to his hygiene as much as Giles would allow, and he didn't answer. He looked at the floor instead, feeling dirty despite knowing it wasn't his fault. Feeling worthless because he couldn't get away, feeling pathetic because he couldn't throw a stupid knife, feeling violated and disgusting because he was at the beck and call of this man. He really was useless, no other chaneller's, or half decent wizards for that matter, would ever be trapped like him; weak and pathetic.

"Look at me when I speak to you." Ron looked up, trying to hide his feelings of defeat, he didn't want Giles to know he had gotten to him. Giles stared at him, and looked him up and down slowly, pausing a moment to check that the three bangles Ron still wore were firmly attached. Ron would have smirked at that if he could, because it was a small sign that this man still feared him slightly, despite everything. "Get some rest son, there's a full moon tonight, and we have a special guest for tomorrow. You might know her actually, I believe she ran in your circle."

A chill crept through his limbs and surrounded his heart as he walked obediently to his cell, and a familiar sickness clenched his stomach so strongly that he had to stifle a sharp gasp of pain. He sat and lay on his cot, back to the wall, and closed his eyes, waiting until Giles's footsteps led him away up the tunnels stairs, and the heavy door was heard closing. He opened his eyes and stumbled off the cot as he dashed to the loo sitting a meter away, heaving up the last meal he had eaten. Steak and potato's, because his host didn't skimp on fine dining, were introduced to his toilet and disappeared as it magically cleaned itself. Ron remained there for a few minutes, until he felt well enough to move back to his cot. He was numb with fear, and he wasn't sure if it was because of the ritual, or because of the _guest_ that Giles was going to bring. _She ran in your circle_, oh Merlin it was probably Hermione! He fought another bout of nausea at this realization and wrapped his arms around his head, squeezing to try and remain calm.

Giles had gone out and kidnapped Hermione and was bringing her here! This was so bad. There was only one reason that Ron could think of for snatching her, and he was sick all over again as he realized this, retching miserably. Giles was going to test Ron, have him drain her just like had had made him do the cats; Ron was going to kill Hermione. Were he eight months younger he might have cried in fear at this knowledge. Now, he could only whimper quietly to himself as he curled on his mangled bed and imagined how she would look at him when she realized who he was and what he was going to do. Of course she would know everything she could about chaneller's by now, it had been eight months since he'd…and she would need to know, along with his family, to try and understand why. What wickedness had driven their trusted son, brother, friend into such violent acts. She would no doubt glare at him with that haughty expression she got when she was feeling righteous and indignant, and there would be a fear and hate there as well, and Ron would steal it all and destroy her.

He grabbed at the bangle on his left wrist suddenly, and tried to pry his fingers underneath it, they wouldn't fit. So he dug his three fingers around it as much as they could and started pulling desperately, trying to rip it off his wrist. He'd done this so many times in the past months and the bands had never even bent out of shape. This knowledge didn't stop him now, nor did the biting pain as it embedded itself into his skin, not cutting. He pulled until his fingers were bleeding around the nails and his wrist was sprained, but he couldn't get it off, and he couldn't even cut himself with them. He dropped his hands and stared desolately out into the larger room, noticing for the first time that a light was there. He had no idea how long it had been there, and then Giles appeared in his black attire, holding his dreaded bag of burning oil and potions. The man looked over Ron and glared at his wrist, but didn't comment. He set up his chains in silence, the jangling the only sound echoing in the room until he stood and looked at Ron.

"Strip." Ron did so. "Lie down." Ron complied. He couldn't feel his limbs, he was having trouble breathing, he felt light headed, he had nothing left to throw up, he was in hell. The only comforting notion about his entire life right now, was that he deserved this pain.

00000

It wasn't an uncomfortable chair, not by a long shot. It was a decent copy of the lawn chairs that muggles were so fond of, with the elongated leg rest that melded into the seat and adjustable back. This one was heavy though, and sturdy and stuck firmly to the ground. The cushion beneath her was plush, she couldn't tell the colour in the darkness but assumed it would be a rich burgundy or something similar. Yet despite how comfortable it was designed to be, she couldn't stop squirming, twisting, and trying to get out of the damn thing. She'd been trying on and off all night (at least she assumed it was night) but seeing as she was still firmly stuck to it her efforts had been wasted. It was enchanted to adjust the binding around her wrists to her size and movements, and she also felt the slight oppression of a guard barrier that, were she to somehow escape the bindings, wouldn't let her get out of the chair anyway. She needed her wand.

_Skrewt shit_! She huffed to herself angrily, trying to hold onto her composure in this dreadful place. Her eyes had adjusted quickly as she had been frog marched down the stairs and to the chair the previous evening. She could still feel the bruise on her thigh where she had crashed into the thing, even though she had seen it with the aid of the lanterns dim light. She remembered cringing as she had stepped into the magically enlarged cellar, feeling the cold immediately despite her heavy robes; but it had been the heavy air of despair that had seeped into her being and made her despise the place immediately. There was a misery in the very stones, and sitting locked in this place all night had made it heavier and heavier until she had begun letting the fear, rather then the anger of her abduction get to her.

She stopped her struggles and looked towards the doorway at the back of this large room, watching intently, listening earnestly. She thought she had heard something.

"Hello?" She called, her parched throat causing her voice to sound more waspish then was normal. She listened, but there was no answer. She sighed sadly and leaned back, allowing her body a moment to relax as she kept her eyes on that room. It was dark inside it, and it was dark outside it, but she could still see the outline, and she swallowed heavily. There was someone in there and whoever it was, was in a bad state. Once she had known that there was more then just a big empty room around her she had realized that the emotions of this place were created because of whoever was trapped there, and her eyes watered momentarily in sympathy before she blinked the emotion away. Last night had been horrible.

Her assailant, and she still didn't know who he was though she was well aware that he was an accomplished wizard, had spent what must have been hours in there. After he had secured her he had practically sauntered in, illuminated by the lantern, his eerie silver eyes intense and hungry. He had gagged her at that time, so she couldn't alert whomever it was in there to her presence. He had stood a moment in the door, glaring, until he walked in. She heard the unmistakable sound of chains rattling and had fearfully wondered, for a moment, if they were meant for her. Until he had started barking out instructions. _Strip. Lie down. Good boy._ She had choked, not understanding what was going on. There were soft footsteps, the sound of vials being opened and re-stopped, the rustling of clothing being removed. She had screamed in protest then, fear for the victim lancing through her body and she tried to distract the evil man, but her desperation only came out as a small whine.

Then the chanting had started, and smoke soon began to billow out of the room and high into the rafters; how anyone could breath through that was beyond her. She listened intently in horror, knowing the casting of a dark spell when she heard one but not recognizing it at all. _ Muladhara. Svadhisthana_. _Sahasara. _He was chanting Sanskrit, she recognized the few words as the bodies chakra's (it was in all the basic divination books she had ever read) and her insides clenched in horror. Any darkness being associated with the bodies chakra's could not be good for the person on the receiving end. Then a low wailing quietly emerged from under the chanting, and the occasional gasp of pain, and the sound of flesh smacking flesh. The evil wizard had finished his spell and, after packing his things, shuffled out of the room. He had his pants on, but he was sweaty and there was blood on his torso and hands, and in between his eyes. He had stopped, looking tired but sickeningly pleased with himself, and he stared at her a moment with unnerving eyes before smiling sweetly. She forced her expression to remain blank and glared back defiantly.

"Not to worry, it'll be your turn next." After he left the gag that held her silent dissolved, but she knew that calling out at that time wouldn't have recieved any reaction from the boy in the detached room, so she had started to try and think of a way out, for both of them. The problem was that she hadn't managed it yet, and she was tired, and beginning to wonder as to why the hell the Ministry hadn't noticed she was missing yet! Honestly, you'd think with Moody and Shakelbolt running the Auror's department they would have found her by now. Her thoughts were interrupted as she heard the sound of someone coughing, and she watched the separated room carefully, waiting. There was a slight groan, and then the sound of material being ruffled. The boy was getting dressed.

"Hello?" She called out quietly and waited, there was a pause in the cloth rustling and then they continued with no reply. This didn't halt her trying for his attention though. "Oi? Are you okay in there?" She cringed at how inadequate the words were, but she really didn't know what else to say. The sound stopped completely and she bit her lip in frustration and agitation, _come on now, speak up_. She needed to know what was going on! She decided to try one more time. "Do you have a name?"

"He does actually, one that you would be most familiar with I'm sure." She hastily looked over her shoulder and saw a dim shape in the darkness. She wondered how long he had been there. "_Luminate_." He hissed and several lanterns around the room lit up, casting shadows in every direction. She looked at him in apprehension but stayed calm. She was an experienced auror after all, and she had yet to lose her head in desperate situations.

"Who are you?" He smirked at her, bowing slightly in mock introduction.

"Giles McTagert, at your service…actually, given the circumstances I'd say it's the other way around." She rolled her eyes. Why did evil people always come with such stupid quips? If he was a good guy it might have been amusing, but seriously, this just made it cliché.

"Who's he?" She nodded to the hidden room, waiting expectantly. His gaze shifted from her to the room, and an evil little smile graced his lips.

"That is my newest pet." He looked back at her, eyes scathing. "You'll recognize him soon enough, though I do say he's probably changed quite a bit since you last saw him." He slicked his wand at her and she felt the magical barrier disappear even as she frowned and looked away, trying to think. She knew this person? How? When? She looked anxiously at the door and cursed for the hundredth time her lack of wand. Giles McTagert had jumped her in a back alley in Bantry, just off the Caha Mountains in Ireland. He had been a bat clinging to the brick wall when she entered it, and then he was hexing her beore she knew anything was wrong and she had been expertly stupefied. He'd poured a potion down her throat: she shrank. He put her in his pocket and then she was here, wherever here was. She wondered how he had captured his other prisoner, and how long he had been trapped here.

"Why are we here?"

"You? Well, honestly it was a stroke of luck that I saw you walking down the street, and a miracle that I recognized you. It is not often that Nymphadora Tonks is in her own skin while on assignments for her ministry."

"I wasn't on assignment." She denied instantly, shocked that he seemed to recognize her.

"Of course you weren't" he agreed. "But I really don't care one way or the other, I'm just delighted to have you. You see, my pet is almost completely trained now, and I think it's time to upgrade his education and you," he looked at her with a greedy glint in his eyes "were too good to pass up. The ministry won't have a clue where you've disappeared off to, and they won't until they find your body on their doorstep tomorrow."

"You're off your rocker you are! Killing an Auror! That's an instant _kiss_ sentence, and they will find you."

"Don't be stupid. They don't even know I exist." He snarled suddenly angry and looked over at the door with impatience. "Boy! Get out here! You need to spend some time with our guest." He looked back at her with an apologetic expression. "You'll have to excuse him, he really didn't want to see anybody here with him, ever. He's a bit reluctant when it comes to old friends, though I guess you already knew that." She looked at the door as a tall form appeared and slowly began walking towards them. She couldn't see his face, but her eyes widened in realization as she took note of the dirty but still bright red hair that hung greasily on his head. It fell messily over his eyes and what she could see of his face was slowly coming into focus; but she didn't need to see it to know who it was.

"Ron!" They had been searching for him for eight months! They had scoured Ireland only two months ago trying to find him, desperate to find him in fact, and as she looked upon him now she saw that the months hadn't been kind. He had been here a long time. He didn't look at her as he stopped only a few feet away, staring at the ground as though it was the most fascinating thing in the world. She felt the tears of relief at knowing he wasn't dead, and of painful sorrow at seeing him like this, rise in her eyes. They had hoped, all of them, that he had found somewhere safe to hide. His mother was still crying at the sound of his name and his siblings were beside themselves with worry. All his brothers had been involved in the search for him for the first six months, the twins taking turns at minding the shop. Fred and George had never spent such long periods of time separated from one another in their entire lives as they had these last long months.

She studied him keenly, noting everything. His clothes were too baggy, his brown shirt riding low around his neck. His hair was longer, but it had obviously been cut at least once. His shoulders were broader and he didn't look any skinnier then she remembered, but there was blood on his neck, and his left wrist was swollen and had scratches around a bracelet. There were two other silver armlet's on his right arm. He refused to look at her, and his hands were shaking.

"Yes, I'm sure it's all quite shocking." Giles was suddenly standing beside her and grinning maliciously. "Ronald, arm out." He ordered and to her complete surprise the boy obeyed without hesitation. What the hell?

"Ron, don't listen to him, what are you doing?" She cried, scared at his submissiveness. It was so wrong to be witnessing this.

"He'll do whatever I tell him too." He seemed inordinately proud at this, walking forward and pulling his wand. He pointed it at the inflamed appendage and uttered a charm she was unfamiliar with. The bracelet glowed and then fell away, bouncing lightly away on the stone floor. "Other arm." The process was repeated and one more bracelet fell off, leaving one single silver band encircling the wrist. Ron was so pale and she glared at him assessingly, he looked like he would pass out any second. He choose that moment to look up and meet her eyes, his blue ones searching. Before she could change her expression to something more gentle he was looking away, at the wall over top of her this time. He was closed off, but she hadn't missed the deep fear that had been there. _Oh Ron_ she wanted to cry, _it'll be okay._ But she wasn't sure it would.

"Ronald, remember the cats?" Ron's entire stance became even more rigid then it had been and she looked sharply between the two. What the bloody hell was going on?

"Yes." Was the dull reply.

"It's time you upgraded your skills. Nymphadora here is quite the accomplished metamorphomagus, as you know, and we will benefit greatly from her strengths." Ron choked and she stared at him, there were enormous bruises under his eyes that made them appear even more haunted. Then what Giles was saying clicked in her mind and she looked at Ron in horror. He was going to take her energies, kill her and keep her magical strengths…oh this was bad, bad bad bad.

"No Ron, listen. You don't have to do that. Just bludgeon this bastard and we can get out of here, nobody will hurt you! Dumbledore can help-"

"You really weren't paying attention last night were you." Giles calmly interrupted, she didn't miss Ron flinch. Giles rolled his eyes dramatically and walked over to Ron, resting a hand on his shoulder possessively; it made her sick to see. "Ron doesn't have a choice in the matter, he has to do what I say. He. Is. Mine." She looked to Ron, seeing the way he refused to answer her, how he did exactly what the man said, how he looked so defeated. The Ron she knew, though she admittedly didn't know him well, would never have backed down without a fight. Sirius had told her how he had stood in front of Harry, broken leg and all, and stated that Sirius would have to kill him to get to his best friend. Arthur had been in tears at hearing this; apparently Ron had never told any of his family what he had done. Ron apparently didn't tell his family much of anything. Molly had been outraged.

"He belongs to nobody!" She spit, glaring with hatred. That seemed to be the last of the conversation though as Giles swiftly moved off behind Ron, wand ready just in case things didn't go to plan.

"We shall see. Ron, drain her past her last breath." He ordered, and Ron robotically raised his arm and pointed at her, the bracelet obvious were it hung. She was about to protest again when she suddenly felt a light pull that traveled all the way up her torso and then dissipated, becoming a heavy tingle in her limbs. She looked up at Ron, understanding exactly what was happening but not wanting to believe it. He held his arm out, and her body began feeling heavy; she tried to plead with her eyes, but he wasn't focusing on her, he was lost somewhere in his own head it seemed. Abruptly his hair turned blue, the same shade she was wearing and she cried out in shock, choking really, as a sleep began calling to her.

The next few moments happened extremely slowly to her suddenly heavy mind. Ron's face turned a deep crimson and his arm began shaking spastically. She watched as he twisted slightly, a look of agony on his face, and raised his left arm to point at Giles. The man went flying forcefully through the air the moment Ron's arm was up, sailing across the entire expanse of the room. As he flew Ron fell to his knees, arms still out. She watched Ron, hearing a sudden crashing that sounded like a giant box of silver ware being dropped. Ron's eyes bugged wickedly, and he exhaled forcefully, dropping his arms. He took a great breath and let loose a scream that must have been lodged in his throat, the horrible wail filling the room until he ran out of air and clutched at his head. His entire body began to shake and twitch and he gasped in pain. She wanted to go to him, but her limbs were unresponsive. She watched in detached horror as his forehead, right between his eyes, began to ooze a black liquid that ran down around his nose and dripped to the floor. His neck had started bleeding black as well and she saw several dark spots erupt in a line following the center of his body. He sobbed suddenly, dryly, and she watched in horror as the blood on his neck and forehead turned to a natural deep crimson. She stared at him as her eyes began to close. His hair was awful that shade and she wished it had never changed. As she fell asleep she saw him curl in on himself on the floor, and stop moving.

**TBC**

I'm glad you weren't turned away by the dark edge of chp 13 and I'm sorry this is being posted later in the day then usual. Stop pouting catc10, the wait is half the worth of the story ;)

Blaaat, don't apologize for thinking about things logically! I enjoy discussing reasons for character and plot portrayals! I'm glad you picked up on the humour of Ron being captured so fast! And lastly, I don't mind that you review every few chapters, I'm just glad that you and everyone else are reviewing in the first place!

Kamonkey, I can't tell you anything as the story, I fear, is speaking for itself. I love that you and everyone else are enjoying the drama though!

Kassidy, one of the best HP fanfic writers? Wow! Considering how many people write decent to great fic out there that is a very gracious comment. It means a lot. Thank you. Oh, and you don't sound insane. I understand completely where you're coming from, I simply grew tired of waiting for a story I would really like with Ron as the main character and therefore wrote this little fic.

Harry Lvr, I've never read the Ian Irvine books, but now that you've recommended them I'll have to make a stop at the library and see if they're available! And if anyone is scared about the future chapters it's me: I hope it's going to continue to hold up to all of your expectations :)

Thank you everyone so much for your comments!

**Next Update:** August 17, 2005


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

The next morning she awoke in an Irish wizard hospital, a small place in Cork that she hadn't known about, to find Moody himself sitting beside her bed, reading what looked like a weekly report.

"Must have had you worried, if the top wands are out to visit me."

"Just makin' sure ye don't croak before ye get yer report in. Can't have my Auror's slacking off; it would look bad." He put the report aside and looked over her critically, his wandering eye not focused on her at all. "How ye feelin?" He asked gruffly.

"Bit weak, but otherwise okay. How'd I end up here?"

"Ye don't know?"

"No. The last thing-" she cut off sharply as the sudden memories came flooding back to her and she gasped sharply. "Ron!" She looked around the room suddenly desperate to see another body in a bed near her. "Where is he?"

"Who?"

"Ron!" she glared at him, knowing he had heard her but that he'd wanted to make sure she wasn't creating notions. "Ron Weasley."

"What about him?" His tone was suddenly urgent and he focused both eyes on her intently.

"He was with me! He was there Alastor, and he was so…" what? He was wretched, in pain, looked like death on a stick, tortured, lost, alone, afraid…

"Where?" He barked out and she refocused.

"Wizard by the name of Giles McTagert. He snatched me from Bantry and took me to his house I think. Ron was there, I think he's been there for a few months at least. The man had put some kind of controlling curse on him; Ron was supposed to drain me, but he stopped it somehow. I don't know what happened, and then I was here."

"We'll find his place, and reinstate the search teams in this area." Shakelbolt suddenly spoke up and she looked over to see him standing by the door. Moody got up and left without a word, no doubt to start giving orders. Kinsgly sat beside her and looked at her critically. "How was he?"

"Not good Kings." She replied softly and looked down at her hands, not wanting to think about it. But then she looked up sharply, suddenly remembering what Ron had done to her. "What colour is my hair?" She demanded, he raised his eyebrow but answered nonetheless.

"Blue." She closed her eyes and concentrated on her hair, willing it to turn.

"Now?" He looked at it silently a moment and then back at her, as if suddenly understanding why she was so worried.

"Orange." She let out a sigh of relief. She would be okay, now all they had to do was find one Ronald Weasley.

00000

Ron had lain curled on the floor for an hour, wanting but being unable to move. His body felt like a limp noodle, stuck where it lay despite his desperation to rise. He could have found the energy much sooner he knew, but he had refused to allow his body to draw it in, afraid he would damage Tonks even more then he already had. Instead he tried to calm his breathing and slow his wildly beating heart so that the pounding in his head would hopefully abate. When he finally found the energy to move he had crawled on his knees to the witch who was bound to her odd chair, pale and still; for a cold moment he had thought she was dead. It had been her sudden snoring that alerted him to her true state, and he had been alarmed at not noticing it before in the silence of the dungeon. He leaned heavily by her legs and looked over to the far corner where he could see the body of Giles sprawled atop of his precious collection of blades.

"Guess I don't need to wield them to use them." He muttered, and looked away from the grisly sight. He was free.

He raised a hand to his forehead and tried to wipe away the congealed blood, succeeding in flaking some off and merely spreading it around and aggravating the split flesh. The copper sent surrounded him and was beginning to make him nauseous and it prompted him to move. He pushed himself to his feet roughly and staggered over to where the body lay. He did his best not to look at it as he searched the area for the felled wizards wand, finding it moments later, poking out from under the mans left leg. He pulled it out quickly and moved away as though burned. So what if it looked cowardly, he didn't want to be around the man at all, dead or alive, and there was no one else to see his fear. Even the wand felt evil in his hand but he wielded it because he knew he needed it to free his friend from her bonds.

"_Diffindo_" he uttered shakily and then pressed the wand to the ropes, cutting them away like butter. His right wrist ached terribly and he spared a moment to look down at the band, glaring at it. He held the wand to it, careful not to cut himself, only the simple severing charm had no effect on removing it. He pointed the wand at himself and carefully enunciated his next spell, making sure it came out correctly (it was best not to tempt incompetent charms with another wizards wand, especially one that had used the dark arts). _Scourgify_. The blood, dirt, sweat and other filth lifted from his body as easily as any long soak in the tub would lift it, but he felt as if it was still there. He felt as though anyone who looked at him would know exactly how foul he was. He'd just have to avoid people.

He didn't have the energy to carry her out of this place, so he was forced again to use the wand, levitating her carefully and walking slowly up the staircase towards the door that he had heard opening and closing for so long now, but never seen. It was black and he pushed it open with ease, stepping into light for the first time in what felt like years. He nearly dropped his charge as he was blinded by it, and he staggered through the door and into what he sensed was an empty hallway, carefully lowering her to the ground before collapsing himself. He needed time to adjust his sight, and his eyes watered in pain. When he cracked them open a few minutes later it still hurt, but he could make out shapes now and he wanted to get away from the dungeon. His captor was dead, there was no question in his mind; the second he had died Ron had been released, feeling the poisons as they forcefully abandoned his body in a violent outburst and left him curled in shock. Still, getting away from the door of his private hell was his top priority.

_Locomotor_. Tonks's floating form followed him as he stumbled half blind out of the short hallway filled with sunlight from a series of windows set high in the ceiling. The second door opened just as easily as his first but he was frozen in sudden uncertainty as he came upon a brick wall that seemed to glare at him in defiance. Oh hell no! He slammed his palm against it in frustration and then jumped as it began to vibrate and slide away until he was facing a large room that looked like a library. He pulled Tonks through just as the wall slipped back in place and a painting literally jumped back up. He was pushed out of the way a second later as a heavy looking shelf stacked full with heavy volumes shuffled past him and plunked down right under the painting. He glared at it through his blurred vision but turned his back when it became apparent that that was all that was going to happen. He placed Tonks on an overstuffed couch that sat underneath a large window and then looked out only to see trees and mountains. Great, he had no idea where they were.

Despite his confusion and fear he was beginning to feel better as his vision began to adapt quickly and his energy came back. Forests were abundant with life that was just throwing its energies away, much like the hallways of Hogwarts had been when students roamed them, and he was naturally soaking up what he could get. However, his wrist was throbbing in tune with his heart beat more then it had in months and he damned the bangle that still clung to him despite its true owners defeat.

He left the library quietly, padding softly in his bare feet and carefully keeping an eye out for other people. The house felt empty though, conveying that feeling he got sometimes when being on the quidditch field, knowing there was no one else about. He stopped and looked in each room he passed, gripping the wand tightly at his side in readiness, prepared for anything. He was far from disappointed when nothing happened. The place was light everywhere, despite the presence or lack of presence of windows, and it didn't take long for him to find the front door, cooker and main lounge. Everything was decorated in a deep mahogany wood, and where there wasn't wood there were black marble counters and glass. It was the cleanest place he had ever seen, and that was saying something considering how hard the house elves had worked back at Hogwarts.

Looking outside had produced more trees, small patches of snow and absolutely no hint at muggle transport, which meant that there must be a floo network or portkey somewhere seeing as the house was warded against apparating. He went into the cooker and tried to use a real knife on his bracelet. It didn't work and he growled in frustration before deciding that he could deal with that later. First he needed to get Tonks some help, then he could worry about himself.

The walls were made of stone and expensive looking tapestries hung everywhere, interspersed with paintings that didn't move at all. It was all muggle, which he supposed was better then a normal wizarding house at the moment as he didn't have to worry about anything popping out of the tapestries or yelling at him for trespassing. He still moved as quietly as he could and kept his eyes looking everywhere for trouble. He went back to the front hall and cautiously climbed the large set of stairs, careful to avoid two that looked suspicious. There was a large chandelier hanging from the center of the great place, its lights flickering around randomly. As he climbed higher he saw that the bulbs were in fact tiny fairies that had been attached at their feet to the hanging object. They didn't look happy to be there, and some were hanging lifelessly like large dead flies caught in a spider web.

He pointed the wand at it carefully, "_Alohomora_" he called, flinching as the sound carried through the hollow place, but was relieved as he saw the fairies suddenly flutter around brightly as they pulled off their tiny chains. Some rushed to help their weakened friends, others to gather the dead, and others still flew around Ron in a mass of light frenzy, dancing on his shoulders in glee and whispering happily in his ear. He smiled for the first time in over eight months, though he couldn't understand their language as some even sang in their tiny little voices. Their delicate wings tickled his face, neck and bare arms before they dashed away down to the main floor and bashed through the front entrance in their haste to leave. The large wooden door crashed heavily to the ground and chill wind swept in. Ron went up the stairs and across the landing opening the first door he came to: The master bedroom. He closed it quickly and moved on, next he found the room that housed the toilet, though it could have housed eight of them if it had wanted. Then there was the wash room that was almost as large as the master bedroom, containing a large stand up shower, an enormous claw footed bath tub, a giant mirror which he avoided looking at, and a sink that was continuously fed by a fountain that fell in stages across the wall until it finally became the water spout. The next room was the study.

He had trouble getting in, as alohomora wouldn't work, but a well placed _reducto_ fixed the problem permanently. He quickly stepped over the door and into the large room, and immediately noticed an enormous fireplace taking up one wall, its mantle resting at the height of his own head. Above it was a painting of Giles with the wizard that had tried to kill Harry; they both glared angrily at him and uselessly whipped their wands about in the air, wishing they could do something about his presence.

"_Incinerenteno_" the canvas erupted in blue flame and flaked away into ash as the fire ceased burning, leaving nothing but the frame and scorched stone behind. He didn't feel any better. He looked over at the large wooden desk, ignoring the odd, skinny rectangle sticking vertically from its surface, and he went right to the pile of mail. The address was to a local muggle post office in a town called Bantry, Ireland. He stared at it in silence. He was in bloody Ireland! At least that cleared up a few things. He rounded the desk and began opening and closing drawers until he found a local directory. He pulled it out and glared at it, as it was muggle and useless here. He looked back in the drawer and saw a much smaller volume that had a fireplace happily burning on the front. He pulled it out and flicked to the emergency pages, looking for a Hospital. St. Charms popped out at him, it was located in Cork and looked to be the closest emergency facility for wizards around. He ran to the floo, grabbing a dash of floo powder from a delicately carved wooden box and threw it in. Flames erupted instantly.

"St. Charms, Cork." He called and then stuck his head in the fire. He'd only ever fire talked once before, and hoped he did it right this time. In the blink of an eye he was looking into a large lobby area where several wizards and witches were moving about. Across the way was the registration desk and he called out loudly, garnering several startled looks and one annoyed glance.

"Oi! Ye take International emergencies?" The annoyed look disappeared as the wizard stood from the desk as if to come over.

"Ay we do. Are ye hurt boy?" Ron didn't answer as he pulled back into the study, leaving the thickly accented wizard behind. He practically flew down the stairs, landing lightly, and sprinted back the way he had come to find Tonks still snoring on the chesterfield. Now that his eyes had fully adapted he could see how pale she was, and a thin layer of sweat rested on her skin. Even her blue hair looked limp. He picked her up bodily and hurried back up to the study, surprised at how easy it was to lift her. He placed her bodily in the fireplace, grimacing as the ashes poofed around her and settled on her auror's robes. She would be filthy, but she would be safe. He quickly fished into her robes until he found her identification and placed it on her chest, then he ran to the desk and hastily scrawled a note of explanation.

Please, she is suffering from extreme energy loss within a short span of time. You can locate her directors at the Ministry in London, Auror division. Help her!

He firmly pressed the note under her identification and grabbed for the floo powder once more, pausing before throwing it in.

"Sorry Tonks. Say hello to my family for me, wish 'em well." Perhaps it was cruel to make such a request, but if she heard him then at least they would know he was thinking of them, despite everything. He threw the powder in and called firmly "St. Charms, Cork." She disappeared instantly and he sagged in relief, suddenly feeling the weight of her responsibility leave him, and feeling the loss of someone he recognized disappearing for the last time. He stood there for a moment and stared, thinking about how easy it would be to just follow her, give himself up. But what if Fudge wanted the same thing Giles had? And, despite moments where he had wished for death, he really didn't want to die. It might have made him a coward, but living alone was better then not living at all right now.

He turned away from the floo, knowing that no one would be able to trace him for a few hours at least. Giles was evil, but he was smart and had no doubt put a tracing block on his address. Ron went back to the desk and sat in the chair, going through the rest of his drawers. He didn't know what he would find and didn't care, he just wanted to make sure there was nothing important that he might need. After a few minutes he stood and began heading out, when he saw a metal box lying in the corner of the office. He could feel protective magic practically oozing off of it and, in fact, trying to deter ones notice. If he hadn't had his channeling abilities, he knew he wouldn't have seen it. He held out the wand and unlocked the unprotected box easily (maybe Giles was too confident, thinking a simple direction deflection charm would work). The heavy door swung open and he looked inside, his eyes widening. He had never seen so much money at once before.

It took a moment of gaping before he reached in hastily and pulled it all out onto the floor, somehow amused by the way it piled up messily. He pulled out a bunch of bundles of paper, shoving them to the side (they looked pretty useless to him) and focused on the boxes that looked like rare coins. Hmm, he wouldn't be able to find a decent place to trade them, and he wasn't into the black market so he pushed those aside as well. There were a series of black velvety pouches tied carefully together with silk cord and he opened one hastily, staring as he saw what must have been five hundred galleons. His mum could have bought herself and Ginny an entire new wardrobe, plus a new owl so that Errol could retire, and maybe a proper pet for Ginny, and a broom and…he stopped smiling suddenly, knowing that they wouldn't accept the money. They were all too proud of a family. He stared at the bag and then pushed it aside, grabbing for the green bag this time. He pulled out a gold coin and looked at it carefully. It wasn't designated but had a picture of a man on one side and a strange bear on the other. It was gold, it must have been.

He frowned at it a moment and then stood up, taking it and the other two green pouches with him as he left the room. He had no money, no job, and no prospects in this life as a fugitive. After everything that Giles had put him through, he figured taking this wouldn't matter. He'd earned it with blood he supposed. He went into the master bedroom, shivering as the magic surrounded him coldly. He tossed the bags of gold on the king sized bed and headed to the closet. He needed a bag and some clothes to last him a bit before he could buy new ones. He didn't want to wear anything that belonged to the man, but he wasn't going to be stupid about it. What he wanted didn't matter, it was what he needed right now to get on. He headed for the closet and opened the black door carefully, waiting for something to jump out. Nothing did, but it was dark and he was having difficulties adjusting to the darkness with so much light behind him.

He pulled his wand to illuminate it when suddenly two tiny balls of light swooped past him and darted inside, illuminating the room brightly in their harried movements. He stared at the two fairies, startled, until they stopped in mid air and seemed to be waiting for him to come in. Well, if fairies dared to tread, then it must be okay. He went in, looking around in amazement. You hear of people owning this much clothing, but you never quite believe it until you saw it.

Along his left were a whole bunch of muggle suits in varying shades, as well as fancy shirts and a rack filled with so many shoes he didn't know how anyone could choose which pair to wear. It was a bloody shop in its own right! He looked to the other side, seeing muggle clothing that was more familiar to him: jeans and sweaters, casual button ups, even the t-shirts were on hangers.

"Which ones?" He asked himself and jumped as the two bright balls of energy flew over his shoulders and began walk/floating over several articles of clothing. Then a pair of blue jeans, that looked less then new but not old, were knocked off the hanger, along with a plain white shirt and a dull grey sweater. He raised his eyebrows as he looked down at them, but then shrugged and began changing right there on the spot. One of the little fairies wolf-whistled at him and he glared at her. She flew up close to his face and batted her eyes flirtatiously, grinning in mirth. Upon closer inspection he saw that she had traces of gold and orange in her hair, and was wearing a rather revealing dress of a paler orange. Then the other fairy flew up beside her and scolded, and Ron was startled to suddenly be looking at the first male fairy he'd ever seen, who was glaring back at him as though he was trying to steal his woman. His hair was laced with red and was dressed in a vest-like shirt and…a loin cloth? Weird.

"Relax mate, I'm not scooping on yer girl." The little man looked at him carefully, and then his glowing red eyes turned golden and he grinned, before dragging his partner off to look at more clothes. Ron finished changing quickly. His two companions were now at the back corner of the shop, and Ron headed over to see what they were doing (seeing as the pants actually fit he couldn't dismiss them as useless). Ah, it looked like they'd hit the 'wizard' corner where several robes where hung, though less neatly then the rest of the place. He looked at them, pulling out a heavy black one that had a large hood. It was too short for him, but it looked like the largest there. He threw it on as well and spotted an odd looking bag piled in the corner. He picked it up and turned it over; it was brown, ripped in places from heavy traveling, and large. It could be useful. He turned around to find a pile of things laying at his feet, the two fairies standing on it and looking up at him expectantly.

He bent quickly and looked at the pile, it had a few more shirt and sweater, some socks (one pair he put on right away), and an odd rolled up bundle of material. He stuffed the items into the bag and then prodded the last item, wondering what it was when the male made as if he were going to sleep. Oh, so it was a blanket then. Odd way to pack it but he supposed that since muggles couldn't shrink things they had to be more inventive. He wasn't sure if it would fit in the sac though, so he picked it up and headed back into the main room, throwing it on the bed with his money. There was a dresser against the opposite wall, and a leather pouch was sitting on top. He turned it upside down and an assortment of crystals fell from it, scattering on the surface. He had no interest in crystals. He dumped all the gold coins into the leather pouch and tossed it into the bag. Shoes, he needed shoes. In the end he managed to squeeze his feet into a pair of black trainers, but it wasn't comfortable at all. The second he got a chance he was replacing them.

As he was leaving the room a book caught his attention, sitting neatly on the one nightstand beside the bed. It looked old and familiar: It was the book that Giles had spent hours pouring over when he had been tormenting Ron. Ron picked it up, not caring to be careful. Whatever colour the book had been originally, the leather was now a pale tan, cracked around the edges and almost falling apart. It felt heavy with dark magic, and there were no words to give a hint of its innards. He opened it to the first page, and had a hard time comprehending the words that were marked within. There was no title, but the author had left his name, in bold, black, and unfaded letters. **R. Doytil**. Ron hesitated, and then tossed the volume into his sack and crammed the rolled blanket into it as well before trudging back down stairs. The two fairies followed.

"Do you need something else?" He asked, trying not to be irritated by their further presence but beginning to worry that maybe they were spying on him. They just flew on past into the kitchen, and he followed, because that had been his original destination anyway.

Dropping his pack on the shiny black counter he went straight to the cupboards and began looking for canned items, finding plenty of them. Good, because he would need food, it was a part of that survival thing he was going to try out for the second time. He tossed as many as he dared, along with an opener, a spoon, and a fork into the sac. He looked at a stand of sharp knives for a second before moving past. He couldn't think of anything else to take and headed to the door, standing and taking a breath of fresh air before heading off down into the woods.

He walked a hundred yards before feeling the apparating ward lift. He thought for a moment about where he should go, thought of how his feet were hurting in the abysmally small shoes and decided that shopping was the best choice right now. Then he'd maybe grab a hotel and make plans of where to head permanently. His mini companions suddenly hovered in front of him, looking questioning. He shrugged his shoulders, sad to lose the first kind faces he'd seen in too long, but knowing he had to leave.

"Sorry guys, but I've got to move on now. Take care right? And thanks for the help." He stood still then, and thought carefully about a town he remembered reading the name of in the directory, picturing the forest outside of it. He felt a quick pressure on his skin and then opened his eyes to find himself in a meadow, not three hundred meters from the town itself. He looked behind him and saw that the grass land just stretched on, no trees in sight, but there had been no one around to see him appear, so for that he was thankful. Limping into town was painful but he tried to ignore it as he looked for the pawn shop. After finally asking for directions he found the small rundown little place tucked between a pub and a taxi house.

He went in and carefully pulled one coin from his pocket, where he'd stored it before finally leaving his prison. His feet weren't the only thing he was finding discomforting as he was finally out and about again, walking around with other people. He had thought he might be afraid of them, of being around them again after so long, but he wasn't really. Nervous, paranoid, maybe a bit twitchy but not afraid; he had been through to much to be afraid of simple muggles, and he knew his height made him less approachable then most. However, he had noticed he was getting a lot of stares, and he wondered if even normal people could pick up on his foulness. The woman behind the counter, with two chins and hair that unflatteringly reminded him of Snape, (no doubt as greasy as his own) stared at him with interest, clucking her tongue as he approached.

"What ye need lad?" She grinned at him with a surprisingly nice smile and he balked for a second at the odd picture she made, before thrusting the coin on the counter in embarrassment.

"How much ye reckon this'd get me?" She picked it up and looked at it, disinterestedly, twirling it in her hands and then biting it. She raised her eyebrows in slight surprise. "It's real." He assured her, and she smiled again at him, putting it on the counter between them.

"Reckon it's sixty quid worth." Ron looked at it a moment and moved to pick it up.

"I reckon I could get more at the spot across town."

"All right, seventy-five."

"Ninety."

"Eighty."

"Eighty-five." He looked at her and she pursed her lip, then smiled gamely, and plucked the coin from his hand, he pulled back quickly, not trusting her touch.

"Eighty-five it is, but just because I like yer style." He headed across the road to the shoe shop he'd spied on his way over, feeling watched and uncomfortable. He'd buy his shoes and then head out of town, because this was getting weird. Thank goodness he'd had the piece of mind to stuff the robe in the pack before he entered the town, because who knew how uncomfortable he'd be then. The shoe store was stuffy compared to the frigid air outside, and while he was glad to get out of the chill, this was a bit much. He hurried his purchase but was careful to make sure they fit proper. He settled for a pair of black trainers that didn't look new, but were as close as he was used too and cheaper then the rest. Next he went and purchased an old brown coat from a second hand store. The stuffing was missing in places but the thick canvas-like material blocked the wind nicely. It was stepping out of the thrift shop (escaping the unsettling glare the owner gave him) that he encountered his first serious problem since leaving his prison. It hadn't even been an hour yet.

Two aurors, one large man and another of average height, came strolling up the path, headed directly towards him. Panic swelled in him, because he knew that they were probably after him, but he forced himself to keep walking and hope that they would simply pass him by. There was no such luck, and the few people out in the streets were looking at them funny. These guys were wearing their robes in broad daylight, unconcerned by people's stares as they stopped directly in front of Ron, blocking his path.

"Allo, ye 'ave a moment to answer a few queries?" The shorter one asked, a polite smile on his face as his partner stared at Ron in interest.

"Suppose." He tried for the accent that the pawn shop owner had carried, but he wasn't sure if it worked well. He was surprised his voice worked at all really, because in a few minutes he was sure he was going to be running away from the wizards as they finally put his red hair, freckles and face to the 'Wizard Most Wanted' poster in the ministry's lobby. He swallowed hard.

"Right, 'ave ye seen this lady then?" Suddenly a flat muggle photo of Nymphadora Tonks was passed to him, her blue hair making her features seem almost snow white. He blinked at it, trying hard to look like he didn't recognize her.

"Naw, can't says I 'ave, she's got great 'air though." He handed it back casually and quickly hid his hand, hoping they didn't notice the shaking. The auror who matched Ron in height laughed at that.

"We figured you'd think that, seeing as you two seem to have identical tastes." Ron grinned weakly, not understanding what he was blithering about. "Have we met before? You look right familiar to me?"

"I was just thinkin' along the same line." The shorter man grinned merrily, a twinkle in his eyes that Ron suspected was used to throw off his targets; a friendly man was often mistaken for an unawares man. Ron shrugged stiffly and felt his stomach drop nauseatingly.

"I get that a lot." He replied, trying again for his grin. The taller wizard seemed happy with that answer though, as he turned to his partner and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Right then Willard, we best be off, seeing as our friend is still missing."

"I 'ope ye find her safe." Ron intoned as he stepped past them, walking slowly down the street. He turned the corner, looked over his shoulder to check that they weren't following and ran, wanting to get out of town as fast as he could. When he reached the meadow he was out of breath despite all his training, and the strap of his extremely heavy sack was biting painfully into his shoulder. He dropped it and sat on it a moment to catch his breath, leaning forward. His hair, which had been behaving itself surprisingly well so far, fell in front of his blinking eyes and he stared a moment at it, unseeing. Until its colour registered in his brain.

"What!" He squeaked, grabbing at a bang and pulling it straight so he could see it better. It was as blue as the sky, no wonder everyone had been giving him such strange looks. Oh hell, it was the same colour as Tonks's had been; he'd taken more of her then he'd thought and hadn't released it. Damnit! He hit himself hard on the leg, and then did it again for good measure. He couldn't keep it, that was for sure, but he didn't know what to do to change it back.

He remembered seeing her at the dinner table, scrunching up her face in concentration and changing her nose as easily as his brother Charlie could change his temperment. Ron closed his eyes and willed his hair to be normal again, then he willed it even harder for good measure before checking. He sighed in relief as he saw the familiar red falling in front of his eyes. Well, that was certainly interesting. He looked up at the town then and jumped up as he saw the two wizards sprinting from the road onto the grass, headed right for him. Oh Merlin! They knew who he was! He stood hastily and grabbed his bag, thinking hard. _Where should I go, where should I go?_ He couldn't think of anywhere and they were getting closer. He could see concentration on both their faces as they approached, wand no doubt in their hands at the ready. He didn't think, he just apparated.

**TBC**

Ron tends to apparate away a lot doesn't he! I suppose it's that fight or flight instinct, and since he's not to keen on hurting people flight is the only answer ;)

I'm glad that Tonks seemed in character, she's a terrific character and I wanted her to be in this story!

Kamonkey…there's three full moons in a month? I thought there was only one…I will do some research about that now that you've brought it up. For this story however, let's go with the assumption that there is only one full moon a month :) I'm glad you're still enjoying this!

Also thanks to Kassidy, catc10, Noompjuh and jo for the excellent comments!

Harry Lvr, I had to delete a few pages of material here and there for the characters to remain as proper as I could keep them. Thanks for noticing!

Next Update: August 19, 2005


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Fred sat quietly next to George at the family table, listening intently to Tonks as she slowly recounted her abduction to their entire family. Even Bill and Charlie had come home for this meeting, as they had all been told it had something to do with their little brother. When everyone had arrived Fred and George hadn't even tried to keep the mood light with any jokes or banter as was their usual want. This was no time for joking, as their mother sat close to their father and both looked like they were trying to be brave for the family. Her eyes were red and their father fidgeted with his tea cup. When Dumbledore himself had arrived they had known that the situation was serious, but none of them had asked questions. They knew all would be told in due course, but that didn't stop Fred's stomach feeling like he'd eaten one of his experimental products. From the way George sat next to him he knew his brother felt the exact same way.

Then Tonks had arrived, looking pale but healthy, knocking over her chair before righting it and sitting down as Kingsly Shakelbolt sat beside her.

"What's this about Ron then." Ginny spoke first, her blue eyes flashing in trepidition as she looked down the table, trying to be brave. Tonks smiled kindly, but Fred could see the sorrow in her gaze.

"He's alive, and roaming around the countryside as he wishes." She said softly, Fred squeezed George's hand briefly under the table in relief before leaning forward to listen more intently. Now that their biggest fear had been wiped out he could sense the tension break slightly in the room. They hadn't said it at all these last eight months, but they had all feared that Ron had died and that was why they couldn't find him. Only one of them had been absolutely adamant that he wasn't dead.

"Let her tell her story before you launch into questions please," Shakelbolt spoke up commandingly, leaving no room for argument and they all forced themselves to still. The only Weasley who could ever sit still for any length of time was Percy, and Fred was still a firm believer that he was adopted. He listened intently as she described how she was abducted and locked up. She described the ceremony she heard taking place in great detail, looking to Dumbledore several times during this recounting, and Fred had become sicker as each detail came out. He didn't understand what she had heard, and neither did she it seemed, but it hadn't sounded pleasant at all. She had paled drastically while recounting it, but doggedly kept on as everyone stared at her horror. Then she described how Ron had somehow broken free of the controlling curse and Fred and George both crowed out proudly.

"That's our boy!" There had been grins around the table, and Charlie had looked downright feral (spending too much time with Dragon's) as he relished in Ron's victory. They lost their smiles though as she described how Ron had curled in on himself, bleeding from his neck and forehead before she had passed out.

"Next thing I new I was in the hospital."

"How'd you get there?" Ginny asked quietly, tears in her eyes.

"The receptionist said a boy with blue hair made a fire call, demanding to know if they took international patients, and then, five minutes later, I was lying in the floo with a note on my chest." Kingsly produced the paper and Molly snatched it up, her eyes gazing intently, reading every word as though it was her last. Their dad was reading it over as well, and he nodded in confirmation.

"That's Ron's scrawl, I'd recognize it anywhere."

"How was…" An unsure voice carried across the table and Fred looked over at Percy, who was sitting straight in his chair as though awaiting his death sentence. "How did he look?" His eyes flashed with worry but he waited patiently for the answer, staring at Tonks.

"He looked…he was fed, that was sure, and he looked strong, but he refused to meet my eyes, and he…he wasn't how I remembered him. I'm sorry."

"No, there is nothing for you to be sorry for." Arthur cut in sharply. "You were as much a victim in this as he was."

"Indeed. There is no blame to place at this table tonight, on any of us." Dumbledore spoke for the first time, looking solemnly at everyone. "I am glad to see that Nymphadora survived, had a wizard of lesser will then Ron been subjected to that curse I fear there would have been no chance of survival. You have a very strong son Arthur, Molly." _Tell us something we don't know_, Fred silently scoffed, his brother squeezing his hand at that moment, sharing the same thought.

"You know of the curse he used?" Kingsly asked, his eyes narrowed.

"Unfortunately I am aware of it, though it hasn't been used in many years and I had hoped it had been forever lost. I assume young Mr. Weasley was kept prisoner for at least seven months?"

"We determined that he was taken one or two days after he ran from Hogwarts and was kept in that basement for the duration, yes." Molly gasped and Fred had only seen his fathers face turn that shade of red once before: right after Ron had run away from Hogwarts and they had learned that Fudge (though they didn't know what he said to get himself stunned) had been to see him. If Fudge had been in the room at that time Fred was certain his father would now be serving a sentence in Azkaban.

"The dark spell cast is called _Chakra Incantata,_ it is a spell that binds a person as a slave through their blood and power centers. Had Ron been subjected to the eight necessary ceremonies there would have been no freeing him from the caster. Even the strongest wizard will fall victim to it on the eighth ceremony, though most are usually completely indentured by the sixth casting. That Ron was able to break it speaks very highly of his strength of both character and as a wizard."

"You're telling me. I thought I was a goner for sure when his hair turned blue." Tonks muttered. Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at this but didn't comment, obviously coming to some new conclusions with information no other person at the table had.

"This McTagert, you're sure he's dead?" George asked, his voice low.

"Because we'd like to personally introduce him to the afterlife." Fred finished

"As dead as any man can be. Why he had a pile of swords lying about in that dungeon I have absolutely no idea. We found his wand chopped into no less then six pieces on the kitchen counter. We also think that Ron took some form of currency from a muggle safe upstairs, so he isn't without money. In fact, he did a fair bit of investigating before he left the small castle, which leaves me thinking he's still got his noggin on straight. Earned himself some fairy protectors as well, though they wouldn't tell us where he was."

"Did he?" Dumbledore brightened considerably at this news, which seemed to effect the spirit of everyone in the room, even though Fred wasn't sure why this was such a great thing.

"Fairy protectors? How? What could they do?" He asked.

"Fairies are remarkable creatures, usually associating only with themselves. You have all seen them floating around Hogwarts on special occasions, though I suspect you didn't realize what a treat that really was. They come to Hogwarts because they want to help spread joy to the children, as a favour that they feel they owe me for liberating them from the first war. Ron must have freed a good number of them from his captor's home, and two of them felt it necessary to repay the debt for all. They have a way of alleviating ones spirit, and Ron will no doubt need their light heartedness in the days to come."

"If he came home he wouldn't need it." Ginny muttered, glaring at the table's surface.

"We must all keep in mind that he is reacting through a fear that has been built up over a long period of time."

"I don't see why it had to build up at all, all he had to do was tell us when we started bugging him about it." She stated, starting off an argument that had traveled through this house no less then once a week since his disappearance. Fred didn't want to start it now though, it wasn't the time, so he asked a question that had been plaguing both his and George's minds for several months now.

"Him being afraid of being revealed as a chaneller isn't the only reason he's running away though, is it?" They all looked at him as his twin leaned forward and picked up on the questioning.

"There's something else, because while Ron can be stubborn, he is most defiantly not a coward."

"He would have fessed up if we'd spoken to him that afternoon."

"That's why he told Harry he was glad that they had been friends fer so long."

"He figured we'd all turn on him but he was goin' to tell us anyway."

"So what is it that we don't know?" George finished, they both looked at their parents as they looked anywhere but at their children, until their dad sighed and rubbed tiredly at his forehead. It soon became clear to Fred why his father was so angry with the minister.

"Fudge let him believe he would go to Azkaban for his crimes, unless he surrendered to the ministry."

"Surrendered to the Ministry? He wanted to use Ron just like that bastard McTagert has been all these months?" Charlie roared, slamming his fists on the table and spilling tea that had gone cold long before.

"Indeed. Ron, no doubt, knew at least a little of how strong his powers are from school teachings and stories, and determined that it would be dangerous for him to allow himself to be indebted in such a manner. He took the only course of action he felt he could under the circumstances."

Fred remembered all too clearly how they had been heading back from the quidditch match to see Lupin sprint past the hall towards Gryffindor tower like he was being chased by a pack of full moons. He and George had been staring after him (along with several of the others) only a few seconds when Pomfry had suddenly been rushing down the hallway towards them, robes billowing out behind her in her haste.

"Ron has left, you must find him before he leaves Hogwarts all together." She demanded of them. He'd heard McGonagall's heels click rapidly as she and somebody else instantly disappeared back out the main door of Hogwarts but the rest of them were still trying to make sense of what she had said. So what if Ron had left? That was great wasn't it? Because it meant he had woken up! The healer had immediately noticed their misunderstanding though and hastened to explain.

"I left to regain my strength and came back to find Minister Fudge, stunned, on his hospital bed. You need to find him before he leaves Hogwarts!" Well, it hadn't quite explained to them the severity of the situation at the time, but Fred and George had turned around immediately and followed Lupin's tracks to Gryffindor tower, the only place they thought he could be. They had found Lupin banging worriedly on the door and stopped at the top of the stairs. They pulled their wands and, with unspoken agreement, combined their strengths to unlock it. They saw Ron's foot disappearing through the narrow window and Fred just about passed out in fear. _He jumped! He jumped, he jumped!_ He had grasped George's arm tightly, leaving finger shaped bruises, and they had only been able to watch in horror as Lupin rushed to the window, leaning through to see what had happened to their little brother. He had pulled back in almost immediately and looked at them with profound relief on his features.

"He's on his broom! He's okay, he didn't fall." The world came zooming back into focus and Fred felt as though he had been slapped back into reality. He looked at his brother, seeing the same relief in his eyes that he felt, and then the anger.

"Oh my giddy aunts!"

"That bloody li'l git!"

"When we catch up to 'im he's gonna wish he had jumped!"

"We'll fong him till he's forgotten who he is!"

"Then we'll hex him till he remembers!" Fred rushed to the other narrow window, one that still had the glass in it, and strained to see out, pressing his nose almost painfully to the glass. He couldn't find Ron anywhere in the sky.

"Where is he?" George demanded.

"Dunno." Fred answered.

"He's flying off over Hagrid's, McGonagall and Hooch are almost on him." Lupin called back through his window

"Bloody good thing he took his broom and not Harry's." George remarked and Fred could just see a few dots in the sky coming into his sights. He squinted and frowned, he could only see two shapes buzzing around, and then they seemed to freeze in the sky.

"Lupin, what's going on?" Fred called, knowing that the werewolf's eye sight was three times better then his own. Fred pulled back to look over at their friend and frowned when he saw Lupin looking a bit weak in the knees. "What is it?" George demanded.

"He's apparated." Lupin quickly pulled himself out of his shock and started heading towards the door in long, speedy steps. "Come along now, McGonagall will tell us what's happened." They had followed in silence, not quite wrapping their minds around what he had meant. Apparated? Ron couldn't apparate that close to Hogwarts, it wasn't possible. It appeared they had thought wrong, as Dumbledore had later explained to them all.

"It's quite remarkable, though I can't say I had predicted him to already be that strong in his abilities."

"_Please Headmaster, what are you talking about?" Percy asked, frowning as though he already suspected the answer but wanted it to be confirmed. That was just as well as Fred and his brother had no idea what the old wizard was finding so impressive, despite the fact that their brother had apparated under a warded area._

"_As a chaneller, Ron has a subtle ability to work with magic around him, though I doubt he is even aware of this. Hogwarts' wards extend far over the Forbidden Forest and in all directions, right until the gates to Hogsmeade in fact. However, they weaken considerably once past a certain radius. Ron had surpassed the strongest of the wards, and I believe he pulled in enough strength from his surroundings that he was able to apparate through the wards themselves."_

"_Through them?" Hermione had intoned, shocked. "That's not possible! The fact that he broke through them in the first place should have collapsed the entire field of protection."_

"_Indeed Miss Granger, that would be the case if any normal wizard performed such a feat. However, we are all still coming to grips with the fact that he is, indeed, a chaneller, and we must realize that he can manipulate certain energies in ways that we never could. I do suspect, however, that it was his fear and instinct that drove him to break through the Hogwarts wards, if he were in his normal frame of mind and power such a task might not be possible. We know so little about how chanellers work…" he seemed to just trail off, thinking of all the things he thought Ron might be able to do but not knowing any certainties._

"_He's done it before." Molly spoke up, her quiet voice easily carried around the group gathered in the headmasters office._

"_What? When?" Their dad had asked, as pale as a vampire and looking for all the world like he wanted to collapse. Actually, he didn't look much different from anyone else in the room. _

"_After they were licensed to apparate, they popped right into the kitchen and scared the daylights out of me! Apparently Ron thought it would be funny. He didn't know we had placed the anti-apparating ward two weeks before."_

"_You didn't tell me they apparated right into the kitchen!" His dad looked shocked, and Fred could understand why. He and Fred had tried to get past the ward once, and the migraines they had suffered for three days afterwards had deterred them from ever trying again. Slamming into that ward had hurt more then being hit on the noggin with two bludgers, simultaneously. His mum was looking guilty and worried now as she remembered the event._

"_I had thought Harry had somehow managed to break them past the ward, seeing as he is such a strong wizard in his own right. When they left I checked to make sure the wards were all in place and it was as though nothing had happened. I had no idea that Ron… that he could…" her eyes swelled horribly but she fought down her fears and managed to regain control as dad put his arm around her shoulders. Well, Ron could apparate through wards and take others with him. That could be bloody useful if they asked him, all they had to do (when he came home) was figure out how to get him to do it on purpose._

"_So he can manipulate magic then? If he can jump through wards, how come our hexes still get him?" Fred remembered back to the last weekend they had all been at the Burrow, before the fight had happened. Ron had fallen prey to no less then three hexes, one which had had him unable to use his arms for two hours. That had been a riot at the time, though Ron's retaliating numbbutt hex still had Fred grabbing his behind at moments to check that it was truly there._

"_There is a distinct difference between manipulating the core energies of magic as they are already in place, and at being directly hit with a spell. Ron is as susceptible to any curse as any normal man, and always will be, and before you ask why this is I must say that I do not know. Very little is truly understood about the phenomenon of a chaneller's abilities, and most of what we do know is from battles fought against the few who wielded the gifts for evil purposes. I impress upon you the fact that a few of those wizards and witches were acting under the manipulation of other wizards and not their own choice." _

Fred hadn't really believed that, because if chanellers' were as powerful as had always been implied, then he had honestly believed that the person containing that ability could overrule any kind of manipulation, even the Imperius curse.

Despite the knowledge that their little brother could slip past wards and, if he chose to do so, suck the life out of them simply by raising his hand, none of them had been the least bit deterred in finding him; he was still their brother! But as the days had turned into weeks and then months their hopes had dimmed and their fears had escalated. Ron's apparition signature was impossible to track (which was another account as to how unusual he was turning out to be) and he had placed a charm on himself that hid him from magical seekers. Even Dumbledore's Phoenix couldn't find him.

Not a day went by when every single member of their family, or close friends, cursed themselves for not being there when he woke up. The conclusions he must have jumped to…and now they heard that Fudge had convinced their brother that he was a murderer and he had to give his life over to the ministry like he was some sort of slave. Fred looked sharply at George, who looked right back. They came to instant agreement: Fudge was going to regret ever laying eyes on their little brother, how dare he threaten him with Azkaban for killing that Death Eater! They both looked back to the kitchen table though, as Kingsly decided it was time to share more news and roughly cleared his throat, getting everyone's attention.

"It seems that Tonks here wasn't the only one to sight your boy yesterday. Two of my Auror's, Willard Nox and Sarmis Doge, came upon him in Newmarket as they were investigating Tonks's disappearance. They might have known him right away, but he had bright blue hair that threw them off. Willard said they asked if they knew him and he denied it, leaving them to their search. He realized who he was five minutes later and they went after him." Shakelbolt looked tired, no doubt from having been up the entire night before searching for his Auror only to find her in the hospital suffering from an unexplainable loss of energy. The table was silent as they anxiously waited to hear what had happened next. They knew that Ron hadn't been found, but just hearing anything about him after all these months was a godsend.

"They caught up to him just outside the town, even saw him turn his hair back into his natural Weasley red as they tried to get to him. Seems Ron panicked at their approach and apparated again. We have no idea where he is now, but we know that he had a pack with him that looked stuffed with supplies. They had seen him coming out of a thrift store and figured he had been purchasing some clothes."

Tonks sighed at that and pulled a bit of hair down to her eye level, ensuring herself that it was still organge. It was obvious that she was still recovering from her encounter with him, as her normally energetic self was lacking, and Fred frowned. "If he can change his hair colour then it'll be that much more difficult to spot him now. Most Auror's rely on that trait alone to identify him."

The meeting broke up soon after that, everyone needing time to think about all this new information, and Fred felt George watching Harry (who had been pale and silent the entire meeting) as he shuffled up stairs to his room. He looked at his older brothers sitting in quiet conference, his parents moving about the kitchen cleaning up and Percy follow Ginny into the living room.

"Well, I reckon it's time we had a talk with Harry."

"Lead the way little brother." There was, for once, no argument about which of the two were older, as was their want, and they quietly followed the silent Harry Potter up the stairs. Ron sure as hell wouldn't want Harry feeling guilty about this situation and Fred and George had taken it upon themselves to try and get that fact through to the stubborn boy. They went straight to Ron's room, seeing as Harry had taken it after the first month of Ron's disappearance, and they barged in without knocking.

"Well, that was fun." Fred said, grabbing the old wooden chair that looked like it was on its last legs, and sprawling in it. George jumped onto the small bed, landing on Harry's feet. Their friend looked startled to see them but he quickly adapted and silently made room. Fred looked around the room and had to grin despite how worried they all were, the Chuddly Canons orange paint was grotesque on the walls, even the players in the posters looked sick of it.

"We have got to paint this room when he gets back." He muttered

"Why? I like it." George stated, looking up at the ceiling, a slight grin on his lips. "It's relaxing in an abrupt sort of way. Reminds me of carrots."

"It would."

"Ron's been sick of it for years." Harry spoke up, looking sad. He'd curled his almost nineteen year old body onto one corner of the mattress, leaning against the wall. He was staring at the wall, but Fred doubted he was seeing it.

"For years? He should have said something." George groused, looking around as though he couldn't quite figure out what was wrong with it. Fred couldn't be responsible for his twins lack of taste, it was the one trait they didn't share.

"He didn't want to waste the money on paint." Harry replied, looking guilty for revealing this tidbit, avoiding Fred's gaze. Ron had always been more aware of the financial issues of their family then George and Fred had allowed themselves to be. They had never seen the point in worrying, but Ron had apparently been more frustrated then he let on. Though he had had to suffer the worst hand-me-downs, and those dress robes for the Yule ball had been downright embarrassin'. They all sat in silence a moment, not knowing quite what to say. Fred and George weren't the best at comforting talk, they usually resolved problems by making it into a joke, breaking the tension, but right now wasn't the time for a laugh.

"Knut for yer thoughts?" He asked and Harry blinked owlishly at him from behind his large spectacles. Honestly, you'd think he'd have gotten a nicer pair by now, he had the money.

"I was just thinking…'bout Ron and, and everything he's going through right now. I can't imagine being a prisoner for eight months! It must have been utter hell, and he still runs away when he's loose. It's the second time I've failed him as a friend."

"What?" George's gaze was incredulous as he looked over. "Don't go blaming yerself fer him not telling us the truth, that was his choice."

"As if you don't blame yourselves for him freaking out. I've heard you say how you never should have tried to corner him into talking. Besides, I knew something was wrong ever since we destroyed Voldemort, and I never pressed. Where is he now? For all we know he's in a muggle prison for trespassing, or he could be leaving for the America's and it's all because I was never able to tell him how much he meant as a friend and…he honestly thought I wouldn't be his friend once we knew he was a chaneller but I…" He trailed off, glaring at his knees as if they were the bane of his existence.

"You what?" Fred pressed, leaning forward.

"I just, I think I already knew. I didn't know the details or anything, what his title actually was, but I knew something was up. I honestly had no idea how I got the energy to defeat Voldemort, but I suspected…and know I know, and after all that he still..." He trailed off, still glaring at his knees. Damnit! It was true that Fred and George both blamed themselves for their part in his panicked flight, but they had come to grips with it and were now just doing what they could to make it right. Harry hadn't been able to come to grips with it, and Fred secretly thought that the dark haired boy wouldn't be able to properly recover if Ron never came back. He'd already lost so much.

"Shut it Harry, you know as well as us that Ron is the most stubborn bloke in the entire family if these last two years are anything to go by. You're his best mate, he values that friendship more then any other. He just didn't tell you his problems because he's an idiot and the second we have him back he'll never forget it." George frowned at him.

"Yep, apparently our little brother has an inferiority complex that we didn't recognize." Fred added.

"But now we do."

"And since he's now one of the most bloody sought after people on the planet -"

"-we figure he's going to have to get over that right fast."

"And you, being his best mate-"

"-are going to have to help him."

"So there's really no reason to feel guilty"

"because your plate is going to be full once he's back." George finished and Harry cracked a grin, a weak grin, but it was a grin all the same. Fred knew it wasn't enough, but there wasn't else much to say. They spent the rest of the evening playing exploding snap and reading until Harry abandoned giving hints for them to leave and flat out ordered them off. That night Fred had nightmares of his youngest brother being chained to the wall upside down by his feet, while giving a lecture about Chakra's and cutting himself in the appropriate places. He didn't sleep much that night, and neither did George, who had had the same dream.

**TBC**

Hey, so I think this chapter clears up a few anxious questions! Harry Lvr, you're hilarious! As for Ron splinching without thinking when he apparates…I'm using his uniqueness as a chaneller as a strength in his apparating skills, and I'm letting his instinct and subconscious aid his decisions when he is in his emotional panicky modes. Also, I didn't really understand the whole concept of apparating when I wrote this story. I don't remember how often it was mentioned in books one through five, but apparition was explained to me more in the Half Blood Prince and I read that after I wrote this :) I hope that explain my reasoning well enough! Thanks for commenting on it!

Kamonkey, I have the answer (thanks to the amazing **Astronomy- a Visual Guide** text I have by Mark A. Garlick:p132)! There are five phases in a moon cycle: new moon, waxing moon, first quarter, waxing gibbous, and full moon. Then it enters a "waning period" and cycles back to a new moon. This takes place in 27.3 days. Whew, I feel smarter now just reading that ;)

Thanks everyone for the comments! They are my bread and butter :)

**Next Update:** August 24, 2005 (I'm SORRY! I'm going to be nowhere near a computer until then and the next bit still needs a read over before I can post it!)


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

He'd closed his eyes in panic and apparated, having absolutely no clue where he was going. When he opened them he saw he was outside of a small village, standing in a cow pasture with snow up to his knees. The animals, which were a good fifty feet off, took no notice of him as he hurriedly scrambled out between a strange wire barrier with a generous helping of sharp metal points . He ripped his jacket.

He stood swaying on a frozen path that had tracks running both ways, and found he was having some difficulty regaining his bearings after his flight from the field. He ended up dropping his pack and sitting heavily on it once again, leaning on his knees to keep upright and taking deep breaths to calm himself. He had never felt so out of sorts after apparating, not even after he left Hogwarts and went straight to Brussel in two leaps. He ended up sitting right beside the cow pasture for a good half hour, feeling his limbs slowly begin to numb under the cold weather even as he regained his strength. When he finally felt up to it he shouldered his heavy pack and trudged into the town, ignoring the puffs of air that appeared at each breath and the way his nose had seemed to have already lost feeling in its tip. Where the hell had he apparated? He was learning fast that his method of transport didn't work under regular wizarding guidelines. Normally apparating took exact coordinates in mind, and even then wizards didn't always end up where they were going. Ron could apparently arrive anywhere that his subconscious could take him, because he sure as hell had no idea where he was now.

He shoved his chilled hands in his pockets and walked by a group of older women wearing heavy shawls over their heads. They looked at him suspiciously as he passed but didn't comment. It wasn't a large place he noticed, just a small community that no doubt survived from its farming in the summer and maybe some mining. He went into the first pub he saw (the only pub they had he suspected) and was greeted with warm air and absolute silence. Well, his appearance had never shut a room up so fast before…he usually had to open his big mouth first.

He stood frozen on the spot a moment, not knowing how to react as the men (he couldn't see any women) watched him, waiting. Most of them had deep lines in their faces, born of long hard labour in the elements, and they looked right threatening as they gripped their drinks and glared. He considered turning around and leaving, but then he would need to apparate again, and he really didn't have the energy for that at the moment. He was utterly exhausted in fact, his energy high, gained while finding help for Tonks, had worn off and the trauma he had suffered was beginning to get the better of him. So, without knowing what to do he looked at the bartender across the way and called out.

"Scotch please." The man snorted and reached up for a glass, muttering something in a language Ron didn't recognize under his breath. That seemed to break the ice as eyes averted and the quiet conversation started up again as he went to the bar, weaving carefully through tables with his large burden. He sat in the corner, keeping an eye on the room and waited as the man finished pouring his drink and walked over to him.

"You old enough?" He asked in a thick accent, eyeing Ron with what was probably meant to be suspicion. Ron knew that he would get the drink so long as he could pay. He looked at the man and raised his eyebrows expectantly, waiting. The man put the glass down and walked off, leaving him alone to stare into it. He didn't really want it, but it was the first drink he could think of on the spot, as he doubted they sold hot butterbeer. He'd never really enjoyed alcohol very much, unless it was mixed with something to mask the taste, but at the moment he felt he needed something strong. He picked up the glass and downed it in one gulp. It tasted horrible, and he had to struggle hard to not cough with the burn. He heard several men laugh and his face turned red in response but he pointedly didn't look at them. He really didn't care what they thought, he just needed some information and then he'd find a place to rest. He'd head out in the morning.

He ordered tea next, and the bar tender laughed but got it for him nonetheless.

"From England." He stated, putting a sugar bowl on the table. Ron nodded in response. "No milk, sorry."

"No problem." He replied. He hadn't had tea in a long time, he really didn't care what it tasted like. The man didn't move away this time though, instead he was watching Ron in interest and this irritated him. "Something wrong?"

"Wondering why you're here is all, we don't have many tourists. You're the first in three years."

"Doesn't say much about your hospitality." Great, how about he insults the man right off the bat, great way to get a helping hand. However the man seemed to think this was funny, and chuckled. "I'm just passing through." He offered, hoping it took away the edge of his first comment.

"No doubt. The police far behind?" Ron looked up sharply and sat straighter on his stool.

"There's no police."

"All right, we're not the types to rat on you, no need to get defensive."

"You speak English very well."

"My mother is the town's teacher." Ron nodded and looked at his cup a moment, trying to decide how to subtly ask his question.

"So, what's your town called?" Well, Bill had always been the subtle one of the family…sometimes.

"What kind of man wanders into a town without knowing where he is?"

"One who's lost." That answer seemed to satisfy him.

"Our town is named Drasgov."

"Right, Drasgov. Which country is this?" The man frowned, looking at him astounded. "I'm very lost." Ron supplied, hoping he hadn't pushed his luck. Maybe he should give the man a gold coin.

"You must be, but I'm not here to question your intelligence. You are in Romania, we are at the base of the eastern Carpathian Mountains." Now that sounded familiar. Well, he had grown up listening to Charlie talk about Romania, more specifically how easy it was to get lost in the mountains…and how dangerous it could be. Right, apparently he was subconsciously trying to get himself killed. Ron nodded slowly to himself. It was still light out, he needed to get a hotel room and find out where to exchange his gold for some local money.

"Is there a hotel around?"

"No, as I said, we are not known for tourism."

"What are you known for?"

"We are just a town, same as most others."

"I see." Though he really didn't, nor did he care all that much.

"I have a room in the back, it has a cot in it. You can stay there, so long as you can pay." Ron fished into his pocket and pulled out his second gold coin of the day and looked at it carefully a moment. He didn't want to toss them around too much, he might need them for a long time to survive, especially as wizards lived much longer then the average muggle. The man looked at it intently and Ron figured, what the hell. He could probably use it more and slid it to him.

"This real?"

"Real and expensive."

"It'll do. Come along." Ron picked up his bag and followed the much shorter man, ignoring the way the others had once again stopped their conversations to watch him. They went through a heavy wooden door, through a tiny cooker where a short woman (perhaps his wife?) was preparing the food for the evenings possible customers.

"Toilet." The man tapped on a door they passed and then pushed open what looked like a supply closet. That was exactly what it was, but there was a cot pressed along the one wall and enough room on the floor for his pack. It was a damn sight cosier then his last room. "Dinner's in an hour."

"Is there a place I can get local currency, in exchange for coins like the one I gave you?"

"Try the antique dealer, he's on the other side of town. He's closed now, but he opens early."

"Right, thanks." The owner of the establishment looked at Ron carefully a moment, from head to toe, and sighed. "After you eat I will have a bath set in the back store room, you look like you could use one." Ron smiled weakly and thanked him, closing the door and sitting heavily on the bed, it was well padded. He left the light on as he lay down, trying to relax. It didn't work very well, so he settled for watching the ceiling and staring suspiciously at the door every time he heard a sound outside. Dinner was a loud affair as the locals seemed to gain in energy and quantity in the evening. Ron forced himself to eat what he could stomach, sticking to the potato's and a few carrots before heading back to his closet. It was five minutes later when the lady who did all the cooking came and knocked loudly. He opened the door and she reached to grab his arm, as if to help lead him out of the room. He jerked back hurriedly, feeling the heat rush to his face as he realized his actions. Honestly, she was a tiny lady and he didn't fear her at all, but the idea of her touching him made him panic. She paused mid way, looked at him strangely a moment before pulling back and nodding her head to a place down the hall.

"Bat." She said, stepping back and expecting him to follow. Bat? He stepped out and looked down the hall, following her as she led the way. She made no more moves to touch him. "Bat." She opened the door and he looked in to see a metal trough filled with steaming water.

"Oh, bath." He stared at it in astonishment, he had forgotten that the bartender had promised him one. He looked at her and smiled gratefully. "Thank you."

The room was cold, but the water had been delicious as he slowly lowered himself in, feeling the warmth engulf his limbs. Of course he was too large to be able to submerse his entire body, but there was a cloth that helped him with that. He spent an hour in it, scrubbing until his pale skin was pink and his hair had never been cleaner. He fingered a few marks on his chest, staring blankly at them, assessing them. There were some from the chakra spell, though the one on his forehead had closed and healed without scaring (surprisingly). The others were still looking fresh, pink skin pulled together to form a bumpy little line that was still partially open in places. He healed faster then was average, but being so run down it was taking longer then was normal. He left the tub, feeling warm for the first time in a long time, and went back to his room.

He dozed off a few times, but that was all, the people at the bar were loud and he couldn't drop his guard. He didn't want too.

He got up before the sun and was making himself some toast in the kitchen when the woman came in and shoed him out. He was embarrassed and grateful to see that she still made no attempt to touch him. He went into the main room and saw that the owner was already there, cleaning glasses he had left from the night before. He grinned at Ron's harried appearance.

"She doesn't get to fuss over people in the morning often, and you making your own breakfast spoiled her plan." Ron didn't quite know what to say, so he settled for trying to make himself useful and picked up a drying cloth. They worked in silence until Ron realized he had no idea what this mans name was. It hadn't been important before.

"What's yer name?

"Tomaz Oryakhova." He made as if to hold out his hand to shake with Ron, then pulled it back as though thinking better of it.

"Ron." He supplied and picked up another glass, trying to pretend he hadn't seen the aborted attempt at formalities. A few minutes later Ron put down the towel and looked around, not quite sure what to do with himself now. It had been a long while since he'd had the freedom to decide, and before that there was always something going on. He was in completely foreign territory now.

"Piotr opens his store in an hour, it will be light then. Perhaps you would like to examine a map of my country before you head over?" He was already pulling out a long roll of paper, its edges were frayed and yellow and Ron was careful as he opened it and spread it along one of the rooms large tables. The lights were dim in this place, the muggle electricity obviously not supplied in abundance, but Ron had absolutely no problem in these conditions. He could see in the dark after all. He took note of all the main towns in the area and looked carefully at the mountains, noting that they were populated only at very specific points. No doubt the people around here had to be careful of Dragons and other creatures, seeing as this was a country abundant with such things.

"Your town isn't on here." He stated, looking carefully.

"No, people do not care to note such a small place. There are a few others like us, we mainly keep to ourselves. This is why your appearance caused a stir yesterday."

"Did it?"

"We haven't had so many people here in over two weeks, and there are no more birthdays to celebrate until next month."

Ron poured over the map until the hour was almost up, then he rolled it up carefully and handed it back. He took all his money and left his bag, heading into the frigid air and marching up the only road in the town. The Antique dealer, being across town, was less then a five minute walk away and Ron was pushing through the door in no time. The store wasn't much warmer then outside, but there was no wind. Ron wasn't bothered by the cold or the eerie silence of the place, it reminded him of the library back at school.

"My brother told me you'd be by." A man as tall as Ron, though he stooped a bit, smiled at him as he moved slowly through the store, passing tables and shelves stuffed full of different things. Ron didn't know what half of it was for.

"This is an odd place for an antique store."

"It is, but much of my customers are not from town." Ron looked at him carefully, seeing a twinkle in his pale brown eyes.

"Tomaz said this town never saw visitors."

"What this town doesn't see does not hurt them. I understand you want to exchange some gold coins for currency?" Ron looked at him a moment in suspicion but pulled a coin out anyways, tossing it to him casually to keep a distance. The man took it and went to a desk at the side of the room, there was a machine that looked like register on it but the man ignored it as he examined the coin more carefully. After a few minutes he gave Ron a brief rundown of how their currency worked and what he would give him for the coin. Ron agreed, thinking that maybe the lady at the pawn shop in Ireland had blindsided him. When he had the odd paper money and some coins stuffed in his jeans pockets he went to look around the store, mindful that he was being watched with interest.

There was a great amount of things packed into all corners. Books sat with a layer of dust settled lightly on top, there were some candle stick holders polished to a high gleam, a globe that sat on a dark wooden base and a small box that looked like it was carved from ivory. He moved along, sometimes picking up items and looking at them for curiosities sake. He didn't really need to be doing this, but he felt compelled. It wasn't as though he had somewhere pressing to be.

"Where will you go, when you leave Drasgov?" Ron put down the wooden monkey with a bobbing head and moved to the next item.

"Somewhere else."

"I see, I only ask because everywhere else is so far, and there are few in this town who would be willing to drive you anywhere."

"I won't need a ride." There was silence then as he continued to browse, moving down to a rack of things that didn't look so antique. There was rope and some strange glass balls with metal coming out of one end. He looked at it in curiosity, he could see two little metal pieces sticking up in the center with a curled bit attaching them. Strange. He put it down and examined the rope. There was quite a bit of it. Next he picked up a wooden stake, wondering what on earth it was for.

"It's generally used to kill vampires, you stab it into their hearts."

"If you stab anything into their hearts you'll kill them just as well." Ron tossed it back on the table and moved on.

"You must be careful with what you say around here young man, admitting to that knowledge is as good as getting yourself killed in these parts." Ron froze and turned slowly to face the shop owner. The man was sitting at his desk, flipping through a book. He wore big round spectacles, just like Harry's had been. Piotr looked up and smiled kindly at him. "I only say this so you'll know once you leave the store."

"You tricked me." Ron crossed his arms.

"Merely answered a question of my own."

"Which was?"

"How you managed to get to this town alive. It is a harsh road which leads here, and most don't survive on foot. There are things beyond our fields that do not plague the towns marked on maps."

"I didn't meet any of them on my journey."

"I suppose not." The Romanian answered, not looking the least put out by Ron's denial. He turned back and moved to a rack of jackets that looked much warmer then the one he currently wore. He pulled out a brown one that reached all the way to the floor and looked at it in interest. It was made of a leather he didn't recognize and was heavy. There were a few pockets lining the inside but other then that it was very simple in design. It reminded him of his school robes, only less baggy.

"That was worn by a chap I knew a few years back, a trapper he was. Claimed the jacket hid him from the damndest things when he was walking through the wood. He had it sent to me when he died, knew I would find the right person for it. It matches your hair nicely." Ron draped it over the rack where he could grab it when he went to pay. He passed by a rack with an assortment of swords, not even looking at them, and came to a box filled with an assortment of odd things. Was that a whip? He dug through the box and grasped its handle, pulling it out carefully. It had a black handle wrapped in some odd sort of thick tape and its cord fell to the ground, uncoiling gracefully and pooling where it lay, as though it were waking up. He felt an energy thrumming through it and looked at it curiously.

"I've had that for years, can't even remember where I go it. It's excellent craftsmanship as far as I can tell, but I'm no expert on weapons. The few who have been interested could never get it to work for them, despite their skill." Ron listened to the commentary half heartedly and twirled his wrist around lightly, like he would have his wand. The handle was getting warm in his palm as he stared at it. Well, he didn't have a clue how to use one of these, so it would be a waste of his money. He went to put it back in the box when the tape suddenly split right up the handle and a warm red leather like substance pulled out and wrapped itself around his wrist, somehow completely avoiding the bangle that was also there. He yelled and stumbled back in shock, crashing loudly into the table of books behind him.

"What the bloody ghoul is it!" He yelled, trying to pry it off with his other hand. It was warm and refused to budge. Piotr was bursting around his desk and across the room at a surprising speed, headed right at him. "Stop!" Ron ordered, feeling panicked and not liking this situation one bit. He held up his arm to protect himself without even realizing he was moving until he had. The Romanian stopped immediately, only a few feet away, and watched as the whips cord dangled almost fluidly from Ron's wrist. Ron glared at him.

"Did you know it did this?" He demanded, all friendliness absent from his voice as he glared at the man. It was the same tone he had used with Malfoy on the Hogwarts Express only two years before, and it seemed to make the shop owner just as nervous.

"I had no idea! I swear to you! I thought it was just a whip!"

"Well it bloody well isn't, is it? Do they normally attach themselves to people?" Ron looked back and forth between the man and the thing attached to his arm, not sure which to be more chary of. The whip hadn't budged since attaching itself to him. He glared at the antique dealer and, after a moment, decided that he was telling the truth. Ron relaxed a bit and looked at his wrist in dismay.

"Is this a selling tactic?"

"Not until recently apparently." Piotr had also relaxed a bit, but Ron could sense the man was suddenly more respectful of him, more cautious. He carefully pulled at the hanging black tape, peeling it the rest of the way off, and he could have sworn he felt the sense of relief coming from it. Okay, this was different. He looked at the handle that had become malleable, noting that it retained its basic cylindrical shape but had flattened out a bit. He wondered…

"I'm not going to put you down." He told it, and suddenly it was unwrapping and sitting in the palm of his hand again. He looked at it carefully, seeing that the red was mixed with a coppery colour that shimmered and spread over it, catching in different angles of light. There were etchings carved into it at its hilt but he didn't understand what they meant. That was all there was to it, though the red-copper colour mixed with the blackness of the cord before becoming black flecked with the same copper colour. Actually the cord didn't look like it was woven at all, it looked more like a rats tail.

"This is bloody strange."

"I can't say I understand it myself, but it would appear that it's rather fond of you."

"The pup I couldn't leave behind." Ron looked at it, feeling the warmth spreading up his lower arm. It didn't stop the pain from the vile wristlet, but it was masking it a bit, and he was beginning to like that. "Will you let me put you down?" He asked it, feeling ridiculous as he moved to slowly place it back in the box. He didn't get very far as this time the handle almost liquefied and spilt between his fingers and down his knuckles in fine rivulets, weaving about until covered the back of his hand, part of his palm, up his middle and index fingers, and around his wrist. He stared at it in confusion, noting that the oddly patched veins looked like leather built into his skin. Flexing his hand experimentally he noted that he could barely tell it was there, well, except for the long black cord that jutted awkwardly from the center of his palm and trailed to the floor, flowing in response to his every movement. He sighed.

"All right, I'll take it as well I guess." Sensing his decision to keep it, the trailing whip slid from his palm to his wrist, thinned out drastically and began winding itself up his arm. He tried to remain still as the tip of the whip last disappeared under his sleeve and he felt it wrap over his shoulder and then around his torso several times, coming to rest finally by his right hip. The thing was bloody long!

"Well." Piotr looked at Ron, a sudden grin on his face. "I can't say that that's something you see everyday." Ron glared at him.

"I'll take the jacket and whip." He moved back and grabbed the coat, shirking off the one he wore and donning the other. It fell to halfway down his calves and didn't feel as comfortable as his robes, but it was a damn sight better then his other one. He placed the items on the table.

"Might I suggest a few more items?" It was a question, but the shop keeper was already walking over to the clothing stand and rummaging about. Moments later he came back with a pair of worn brown gloves (made from the same material as the jacket), a simple black wool hat, a wrap like the women wore over their heads, and a pair of the oddest boots he'd ever seen. They were a pale tan colour, made from some animal hide and looked like they would probably travel up to his knees. He looked at the man in question.

"You cannot stay in this town long my friend, the people are very suspicious and, as I said earlier, do not take kindly to those that are not…normal. You are not normal, though you do a convincing job of acting it so long as strange objects cease attaching themselves to you. These items will help you on your journey, where ever you decide to go."

"Fine, just tell me the price." Ron paid for it all and went straight back to the pub. The towns folk were beginning to wander the streets, they watched him as he walked by. Piotr was right, he didn't want to stay long.

He switched his shoes for the boots, surprised that they fit and wondering why he didn't think to check before purchasing them. The scarf wrapped warmly around his neck under the jacket and he made sure his gloves hid the odd object that now traveled up his arm and over his body. It was warm wherever it lay, and he felt it every time it moved its position, as though trying to get comfortable. He didn't know what to think of it, but figured for now he would just accept its presence. It didn't seem dangerous.

He left quietly, walking down the main road with his pack and heading back out of town the way he came in, following the road until he reached the dense forest. The forest itself traveled past his distance of clear sight and up the looming Carpathian Mountains. There was a lot of wild terrain, and his plan was to get lost in it. He could make out several villagers at the edge of their town, watching him, waiting for him to go into the forest. He obliged, happy to leave their accusing gazes. When he was out of sight he closed his eyes and apparated.

**TBC**

First of all I apologize for the wait, but now that I am home (after coming in close and daring contact with wild black bears, crashing onto rocky outcroppings in the worlds best built canoe, climbing dangerous rock faces, building fires, coming face to face with vicious white tailed deer and being victorious after the battle of the chipmunks) I can update! Hope you enjoyed!

I'm very glad you enjoyed how the twins came across! They are so much fun to write! (I'm glad you enjoyed that line Scribhneoir, I wasn't sure if people would find it as amusing as it was meant to be) As for Hermione, I was sorry not to include her but as life goes on not everyone can be involved at once :( Do not worry, it wouldn't be a Harry Potter fic without her!

LK, sounds like your in trouble with Harry Lvr

And honestly, did you think I could kill Harry so soon in the story! We're only halfway through!

Thank you all for your continuous support! You're all wonderful!

**Next Update:** August 26, 2005


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

"Oh, bloody hell." Ron muttered under his breath as he pulled his leg out from the fourth hidden slush puddle that morning and glared down at his tanned boot that was finally letting the water leak in. Then he glared at the offending puddle on the ground. Honestly, you'd think after two months of traipsing around in the wild he'd learn where to step and not step by now, and this weather change was making for all sorts of hidden water traps. He sighed and stepped away, heading off on his hike once more. It was just over halfway through May, and the weather was now warming even in the mountains, melting snow slowly and creating little puddles of water that hid under thin ice, just waiting for Ron to come and step in them. The problem with snow is that you couldn't kill it; even boiling it just released the vapours into the air to plague him in the future.

He pushed through a dense cluster of trees and walked at a quicker pace when they finally spread out. The branches weren't so low here, and as summer hadn't officially hit this level of the mountain yet he didn't have to worry about ground coverings. He looked around carefully, noting the way certain trees were shaped so he could remember them in the future. He hadn't been this far away from his lodgings yet and was being cautious, you never knew what was around the corner and he had nowhere to go if he needed help. In all honesty being in the woods like this made him edgy, he liked animals but held a healthy fear of them, especially since most in these woods liked to try and eat him. He rubbed his right hand along the lower sleeve of his left arm, the raised scar of his rough sewing in the material matched one underneath on his flesh. He still didn't know what it was that attacked him, it had been so quick, but it hadn't come back and he was glad for it.

As it were his hikes (or territorial wanderings if you prefer) were carrying him further and further from landmarks that he recognized everyday. He had been walking all day now, in as straight a line as he could manage with all the steep hills, streams, game trails and bush that he had to go around to avoid. He also avoided most open areas for fear of being spotted by a dragon visiting from the high mountains, out looking for lunch. Oh he knew he could escape quickly enough, but Charlie had told him how some dragons, once aware of elusive prey wandering around, would hunt for weeks until it found it. Ron didn't fancy being prey. He also knew that though the creatures could be enormous, they could also be as silent as bats and have him in their jaws before he could say pickled pumpkins.

Looking ahead he saw that the trees seemed to stop abruptly, and as he reached the end of them he saw why. The wind that had been fairly strong throughout the day suddenly whipped into a frenzy as he stepped onto the open ledge of a cliff that dropped eighty feet below him, blowing his hair into his eyes annoyingly as he tried to appreciate the beauty of the scene laid out before him. Magnificent, it was definitely better then the last cliff he had found, though a sight more dangerous. If he had been fearful of heights it might have terrified him, but after years of flying on a broom and one terrifying evening on an invisible Thestral Ron had overcome any such fear (though his mother would have been dismayed at knowing that, if she still considered him a part of the family). He stood looking out at the sinking sun as it began casting a deep red-purple hue on the cirrus clouds that wisped across the sky, and he frowned to himself.

It would be light for another hour, maybe an hour and a half, which meant he couldn't risk being out here much longer, but that meant he had to go back to his shelter where there was nothing to do but think, and thinking was something he was avoiding at all costs. Day and night he focused on survival (which wasn't easy in a place like this), distracting himself as much as possible with singular exploration, a rare trip into one town or another for supplies, and working himself to the bone building his shelter. It was almost completed now, not really needing a lot of architectural genius on his part, and that was why he was finally exploring the countryside more.

He stared at the mountains in the distance, seeing a speck no larger than a grain of sand in the sky, no doubt it was a dragon out looking for an evening meal, marking his territory. He didn't think it would approach his position, but he'd be sure to keep an eye out tonight just in case. Dragon's normally kept to themselves unless aggravated or hungry, and they rarely liked to leave their chosen nesting areas. A tiny giggle materialized behind him and he looked over his shoulder a moment to acknowledge the owner of the voice and her companion, smiling faintly at them. He hadn't seen them for four days, when he had impolitely told them to bugger off before he used them as fishing bait.

The two fairies had been with him almost from the day he apparated into these mountains. He'd been scouting a location to put up a shelter when they had flown right into his chest, knocking him flat on his arse. He'd had no idea that they could be so…forceful. The two of them had then proceeded to jump from one knee to the other and yell at him (though he had no idea what they were saying), eyes flashing in their respective colours. Apparently they were not happy with him up and leaving them like he had, and it had taken them this long to figure out where he was and catch up (though he had no idea how they did it). He had thought the charm he'd placed on himself in Hogwarts worked on all manner of magical creatures. He had been wrong.

He remembered saying sorry, telling them he had no idea they had wanted to follow him, and politely asked them to let him get up out of the snow. They had let him up, but not until pointing at themselves in turn and stating their names earnestly. The male, whose eyes had stopped glowing their angry red and muted to a friendlier golden hue, called himself Hornblend. His companion (whose eyes glowed a radiant orange when angry) called herself Howlite. The names were odd, but he didn't dare say so, seeing as he didn't want to upset the little guys. Over the last two months he had simply begun calling them Howly and Horns (which sometimes became Horny when Ron felt playful (though that was rare) or irritated), to which they were apparently delighted and danced around giddily whenever being called. He didn't understand a word they said, but they understood him just fine and he was becoming fluent in their method of charades. In all honesty, having them around helped him, seeing as they were the ones who found him a place to set up shop, and their antics kept things interesting. They were very distracting.

"Good te see ya." He called and was delightedly surprised when they landed on his head and began playing in his absolutely horrible new hair cut. Two days before he had become fed up with the coppery red strands tickling his cheeks and falling into his eyes, so he had fixed it. Well, fixed was a relevant term he supposed, as he hadn't had any mirror to go by or a set of scissors. He used a puddle for his reflection and a small (but sharp) knife he had picked up on one of his three trips to towns for supplies. His hair had never been the kind that fell flat, and now it stuck off his head in all manner of directions. He had thought it looked quite like Harry's black mop had been, jutting in all directions. Then thinking of his lost friend had depressed him and he had ignored his hair since then. His little friends seemed to like it though.

"Ow! Hey, it's attached ye know, try to leave it that way." They left his strands alone and went to sit on his shoulder instead and together they watched the sun set slowly, the wind whipping around them and the two fairies hung on tightly. The speck in the distance had disappeared a long time ago as darkness descended and the temperature dropped even more. He decided, seeing as he wasn't doing anything important, that he should head back and settle for the night. He looked to his companions who were staring intently down at the forest that lay spread below them. He looked down as well, but didn't see anything. They often stopped and stared at things, and half the time he thought they just stared for the hell of staring, or playing a joke on him to see if he'd bite. Right, well he wasn't in the mood for that this evening.

"Right, I'm heading back. I'll see you there." Horns suddenly twirled around and flew at him, grabbing his sleeve and trying to tug him over to where they had just been. He glared at him. "I'm not in the mood for playing yer games right now. The shadows are out and they're making me nervous. Lay off." They weren'y listening to him though as Howly joined her mate and they both tugged earnestly. Well, this was new, they had never been so insistent that he look at something. He stopped just at the edge of the cliff and peered over, glimpsing the trees below and seeing nothing but the shadows they cast, obscuring their shapes.

"Right…trees. I'm going back now." Horns's eyes flared red in the darkness, making him look more like a mini demon then a creature of light, and he pointed down insistently. Ron glared at him.

"I don't see anything down there." He told them and the fairy glared. Howly was still pulling at his sleeve and he carefully swatted her off. "If you pull me any further I'm goin' te fall off the cliff, and that's not something I plan on doing any time soon."

Hornblend flew a foot away from his face, pointed at Ron and then threw his arms and legs out wide, as though he were exploding, and pointed down into the forest way below. Ron looked at him incredulously.

"You want me to apparate down there? I thought you two didn't want me dead." Horny glared and Howly joined him, her hands on her hips. They were serious. Ron looked over the cliff again and frowned. Sure, he could see all right in the dark, better then the average wizard now, but he still couldn't see as clear as in daylight and there was no moon casting any light to aid his vision. There could be any number of dangerous creatures down there. Then his right arm flared hot as his whip (which he had aptly named _Whip_) warmed up in sudden urgency. He could feel the sudden agitation in the magical weapon, as though it had just realized what the fairies already knew. It bloody hurt!

"All right! Lay off! I'll apparate down there, and you three had better have a bloody good reason." Any mental ward would have a field day with him; listening to fairies and talking to supposedly inanimate objects that attached themselves to his arm, for no apparent reason, was not the sign of a sane man. He flicked his wrist and felt the whip immediately uncoil from around him, falling to the ground and becoming solid in his grasp, as it should. Then he apparated.

He was immediatly immersed in a thick set of brush, the snow still deep under their shelter, and he crouched down low, waiting for the fairies to show up. He held Whip at the ready, sensing the awareness of the weapon through the palm of his hand and looking cautiously around him for any signs of danger. He slowly undid the top few buttons of his jacket, giving his shoulders a bit more room, he pulled his dark scarf over his face and then willed his hair to turn black. He had discovered that he could change his hair and eye colour at will now, but he rarely did so, hating his reasons for having this new skill and also because whenever he changed it, it turned back to his normal colour after only an hour. The only other times he'd used it was on his two trips into Romanian towns, and once he had forgotten to keep it turned, which caused quite a stir to those around him. He wasn't ever going back to that place.

Howly suddenly appeared, her natural glow had been dimmed drastically to hide her in the night (for fairies disliked being out in the dark as much as Ron, seeing as they were so easy to spot) but not completely. She looked at him and then headed off in the northern direction. He suppressed a sigh and silently followed her, hating the fact that Giles's training in stealth was actually useful. They moved along for half an hour and Ron was beginning to get fed up when the atmosphere around him seemed to suddenly shift, becoming oppressive and dark. He sensed anger in his whip as it flared to an almost unbearable level of heat again and he hissed softly at it in warning before heading on. After a few minutes he could hear laboured breathing; laboured breathing that sounded as though it belonged to a really large animal. He stopped immediately as he came upon a very small clearing and looked carefully into it, sucking in a fearful breath at what he saw. The clearing wasn't natural, it had been created when the giant beast had crashed into it, felling the few trees that now lay scattered around. Ron looked at the heavily breathing dragon, but didn't make any effort to follow Howly to it. He could see Horns glowing over its head, moving about slowly. The giant creature let out a pitiful whine and Ron actually, Merlin help him, felt bad for it.

"Stop it, or I'm not going anywhere near it." He hissed, angry by Whip's sudden loss of control as he hurt Ron again. Honestly, the pain from the bangle was enough, he didn't need this weapon hurting him any more. He felt a sort of apologetic emotion from the tool and the heat once again became bearable, but there was still anger simmering within it. He ignored it and surveyed the scene, paying no attention to Howlite as she tried to pull him to the beast.

It was dying, that much he could tell. It had massive gash marks along its ribs that were slowly seeping blood; he could see bone. Its right leg was bent at an unnatural angle, its wings were sticking out on its other side, lying limp against the trees around him. Though Ron could see its back, he suspected the damage there was just as severe as on its front. It wasn't going to be able to hurt him. Cautiously he left the shelter of the trees, heading towards its head, where Horns was. The creature was large, though it was far from the biggest dragon Ron had ever seen. It was maybe the size of one of them African elephants. He made sure he wasn't completely silent as he strode around, so as to alert the animal of his presence. The fairies were both standing on its snout now, petting it and cooing softly, there was a very thin trickle of smoke coming from one nostril with every exhale. As he got close enough the animals glazed brown eye focused on him, its snorting increasing a bit. It tried to lift its head but couldn't even get it an inch off the ground. It was a pitiful thing to witness, such a magnificent creature brought down to this.

"S'okay, I'm not gonna hurt you." He calmly announced, crouching down as he got to the head. He saw that the jaws on its long snout had parted, the thick tongue lying motionlessly on the ground in a tiny pile of blood. The poor thing was in so much pain as it tried to track his movements, its breathing laboured as it occasionally twitched. He looked at the fairies, not understanding why he needed to be here, to witness this. They stopped their cooing and stood, watching him pleadingly a moment before Horns stepped away from his mate and raised his right arm, pointing it at her. She pretended to collapse and lay still on the brown snout. Ron backed away a step in horror.

"No, I can't do that! I haven't…it…" he trailed off, looking at them with his own look of pleading. He hadn't used his chanelling abilities on another living creature since Tonks; he was terrified of using it. He told himself that the only way he'd steal the energy from another being that wasn't passing it off into the atmosphere, was for his own protection. Too many lives had already been ruined or lost by his hand. Whip warmed up again, encouragingly, and he looked down at it in confusion. How the hell could he feel its emotions, how had it known that a dragon was down here?

The dragon cried out and shuddered, Ron flinched, feeling the guilt rising. He could end it's suffering, but he didn't want to with out its consent, he wouldn't. It didn't matter that it was just a dragon, they were intelligent Charlie had said, had feelings and such as any pet they'd ever had. Ron stepped closer and looked into its unblinking eye. How could he figure out what the creature truly wanted? Suddenly Howlie fluttered down and grasped Whips tail, dragging the cord up and carefully placing it on the thick neck of the animal, where it wrapped around on its own accord, much like it did to Ron every time he wasn't using it. He was about to drop the whip when it swathed through his fingers, once again physically binding to him, and he gasped as he suddenly felt a portion of the pain the dying animal was in.

He could feel Whip explaining Ron's intentions to the dragon, and the dragon blinked at him, its glazed eyes seemed to widen in understanding and then, one of the most bizarre things Ron would ever experience happened (and he was the first to admit that a lot had, indeed, happened to him); he was feeling the dragons emotions through the whip, he could feel its pulse, its fear, its worry and its relief at knowing it wouldn't have to wait any longer to escape the pain. Ron was in communication with the dragon, and it was asking him to end its life. He choked and then slowly fell to his knees by her head, staring into her massive eye. Bloody hell, why him? He looked at the whip laced through his fingers and gently pulled it off of her.

"I need to put you down, I don't know if I'll hurt you while I do this." He whispered. For the first time in two months the whip allowed him to remove it from his body. It was odd, he suddenly felt a bit colder. He looked at the fairies. "You two, stay behind and don't interfere." Howlite flew up and kissed him solemnly on the cheek and then flew behind him with Horns.

He let out a slow breath and gently placed his hand on his dragon's cheek. He'd never touched a dragon before, she was warm and leathery. He honestly wasn't sure how many dragons had ever willingly been touched by a human. He placed his other hand to the ground, somehow knowing that that was the best way to channel the energy in and out of him, and then he began. It took a few minutes as he worked slowly, letting the animal drift to sleep and feeling her considerably weakened energies pass through his arms and into the earth. He ignored the slicing pain in his wrist and didn't move at fraction. When he felt the last of her spirit travel through him he jerked away roughly, loosing the calmness he had maintained for her.

He twisted around and retched the little food he'd eaten that morning onto the ground and then curled in on himself.

"Don't…touch me." He ordered weakly, knowing the two fairies were coming to help him. They listened, staying back with Whip and watching him. _Enjoy the show_ he thought bitterly, because he wasn't doing that again any time soon. It was one thing to take life in the spur of the moment, it was another to slowly leach it out. He wondered if Harry might have preferred to die this way, slowly and painlessly, rather then having it grabbed in an instant of painful shock and then just cease to exist. Tears swelled in his eyes but wouldn't fall. Harry wouldn't have wanted to die at all he thought and tremors began to shake his entire frame.

Harry would have had the Death Eater kill him rather then his best friend. Harry wouldn't have killed anyone in the first place. Ron should never have been given these powers, Harry should have gotten them, he was the strong one. He would have known how to use them and not hurt people, he wouldn't have killed Ron, he would have still been alive! Ron sobbed dryly, letting all his hate and pain and frustration fill him. He didn't care that he was in the middle of dangerous grounds lying beside a bloody dead dragon that would no doubt be attracting carnivores. He didn't care that he couldn't fully give into the sorrow that he fought against every day. He was back with Harry, watching him die. He was back in Giles's dungeon, wishing for death. He was stuck. He was Ron, he was a chaneller, and he was a bloody murderer. Damnit he wanted his family and friend back!

Slowly he pulled himself together, feeling weak and miserable from the channeling and his emotional release. He sat up and wiped at his eyes, taking a few deep breaths to steady himself. Horns and Howly were watching him carefully, holding each other and gazing at him with sorrow filled eyes. Well really, what the hell did they expect asking him to do something like this! He swooped down and grabbed Whip, shoving it into his pocket, where it surprisingly stayed. It seemed that none of them had realized just how much asking him to help would have bothered him. _Good, maybe they'll think twice next time_.

He looked back at the dragon, her eye was closed and she was resting peacefully, but the heavy sensation of darkness still enveloped the area. Something was very wrong with this place. She had obviously sustained her injuries due to a fight with another (no doubt larger) dragon, but it wasn't common for a dragon to maim another and then leave it to die alone. If it was territorial then the dragon would have made sure it was dead, and it obviously wasn't a fight for food. The fact that it was a she meant that it wasn't a battle for breeding rights or dominance. It felt dark, it felt like this was a battle created by forces other then natural instinct. But, whatever it was it wasn't his problem. He turned his back once again, glad that she was no longer suffering but hating that he had killed her.

He was going to head back into the forest, away from the dark energies that surrounded the place, and then hopefully he would have enough energy to apparate home. He didn't make it far though, when a soft snort and the sounds of heavy waddling footsteps reached his ears, coming from behind him. He reached into his pocket and grabbed his whip, and turned to face his new danger, only to halt in amazement. It looked like momma dragon hadn't simply been fighting for her own life. A baby dragon, no bigger then Fang had been last Ron had seen him, was staring at him out of wide, lost eyes.

"Well, hello."

**TBC**

Lol Harry Lvr. I've never seen Russle Coight, but I have seen Steve Irwin (though I don't know if you feel about his show) and I think he's fantastic! Ain't she a beauty! Oh, and I am planning a trip to Australia some point in my live (looks dreamly towards the sky) so we'll see how my stalker instincts kick in then.

Scribhneoir, I'm glad you like how his characters progressing. I wanted to try and find a balance between his insecurities and the potential I see for his character.

Thank you all again for being such die hard readers! And in the words of Kamonkey: U ROC!

(Oh, and I know there's a whole lot of you out there reading this, so I hope you're enjoying and I am going to wait patiently for your large and opinionated reviews when it's complete ;) Yeah, you know who you are :)

**Next Update:** August 28, 2005


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

He had heard stories from his dad's wildlife rehabilitation friends at the ministry about what a terror baby dragon's could be. He'd even had his own rather un-fond memories of Hargrid's not so little Norwegian Ridgeback whom he had helped smuggle out of Hogwarts in his very first year. That had been absolutely exhausting, aggravating, scary and painful and Ron had decided not to have anything to do with dragon's ever again. He had even questioned his brothers sagacity for ever wanting to work with the dreadful things. Then there had been the time with the Wizard cup and he had been so terrified for Harry…he steered away from that memory. The point was he hadn't been at all happy with being anywhere near a baby dragon the first time around, therefore; the fact that he had spent over a day trudging slowly back to his shelter with a baby dragon following him (cautiously) the entire way, had him in a sort of stunned state of denial.

Oh his fairies had been delighted with his decision to let the dragon follow him home, but he really didn't care what they thought. They had fluttered off and come back with all sorts of dead rats and other rodents and Ron didn't want to entertain where or how they acquired them. The little tyrant was more then happy to crunch down every single one. Whip had thrummed his happiness and Ron was beginning to suspect that he was made from some kind of dragon parts (most likely the tail end if that were the case, though he had no idea). He was still having trouble wrapping his mind around the fact that it had him actually communicating with dragons.

When Ron had finally pushed through the hidden doorway and into his cave shelter he just didn't care that the baby dragon followed him right in and happily curled onto the floor along one wall. Ron chose to ignore it as he crawled onto the make shift cot he had scrounged up and piled with a used duvet from a thrift store he had been to (he didn't want to use the sleeping bag he had lifted from Ireland, but he hadn't thrown it out; it was off in a pile of other things along the back corner). It was the first time he had slept for a solid six hours in over two years, but waking up had scared the freckles off him. Having a fire breathing dragon panting heavily by your face with a nice big row of shiny razor-sharp teeth at eye level tended to do that to a person. He was proud to say he didn't scream, he instead executed a perfectly planned flip that sent him sailing over the creatures body and had him scrambling out his door in a most respectfully panicked way.

He had come to a stop outside only because he had tripped over a pile of dead rodents that had been generously piled in front of the doorway by Horns and Howly. He had then plunked himself on a log and stared in remorse as the dragon happily mowed through his dinner with zest. It made Ron a bit queezy to watch at first, but he got over it fast enough. It had been the same with Norbert.

That had all taken place four months ago, and Ron had come to the conclusion that his dragon was not like the other dragons. His dragon was a bit bent in the head (Because what kind of dragon actually willingly hung out with a person? Sure Norbert had, but he'd been born into that situation, and he'd been a little bugger about it too.). It hadn't been easy learning how to handle him, he was just as dangerous as Norbert had been, snapping at Ron's limbs whenever he felt playful (Ron figured that, with dragon hide being so strong, this was never an issue with its mother) or when he had started teething. The teething began after the first week Ron had started trying to raise it, and he had used all of his agility to stay out of the damned things way. In the end he had learned that if he communicated with it through the whip they could come to a sort of understanding with each other that eventually had the dragon comprehending Ron's basic vocabulary. After three months they didn't need Whip's help in the simple communication, learning how to read each other through stances and looks. Besides this Ron wasn't sure that, even with Whips help, they would be capable of real conversation. It was much more like a sharing of feelings to get the point across, and even then the spirited creature didn't always seem to understand what Ron was getting at.

Imagine, being friends with a dragon who's idea of fun was trying to knock you down with its three tipped tail. It bloody hurt, and more then once Ron had been forced to resort to draining its energy so it didn't accidentally kill him. He supposed it was good practice, but it made him right edgy and he couldn't sleep at all until the next day.

He had named the dragon Forge, in honour of his twin brothers (which he missed terribly and tried not to think about) and because the thing had a mouth that could melt steal. It had taken Ron two months to get him to understand that fire could kill him, much like its mother had died. It had stopped trying to purposely cook Ron then, which was appreciated. Fortunately it seemed to have a natural aversion to burning its habitat when it snorted flames. It had lit the ground on fire a few times and had pounced on the flames, stomping them to death as though it were a game. When it had lit a tree on fire it had (in a most disgusting and unexpected way) spit brown phlegm at the blaze, instantly dousing it. Well, Ron supposed that was handy, seeing as if one could start a fire it should be able to put it out.

Feeding had quickly turned into a nightmare as his blazing extinguisher had grown up fast (faster then Ron had anticipated) and had disinterested with simple rodents. Perhaps it was its odd fondness of pine needles that kept it from realizing that it could go out and hunt (Pine needles? Utterly bent this one was!). Ron had had to roam deep into the woods (far from his cave) with his critter following happily behind, its bright orange and brown body waddling on powerful back legs. Whenever they reached a clearing Forge would spread his wings and flap them, pull himself up right and sort of hop along the path. Ron had almost been crushed the first time his dragon had done this: he had turned to find a thick shiny brown belly and flailing stubby orange arms headed right at him. Howly and Horny had just knocked him out of the way of becoming a Roncake and Ron had adapted to looking over his shoulder even more frequently than was his norm.

Despite that incident Ron had had to teach Forge how to hunt so that he would hopefully leave and find a life elsewhere (because while Ron might have admitted to sort of liking the dragon at that point, the thing didn't make hiding from the outside world that easy. Someone was bound to notice a dragon lurching around.). He had thought it would be hard, finding prey of some kind, when out of nowhere a black furred animal the size of a dog lunged at him from a tree. Forge had the creature in his large jaws and down his throat with a speed that made Ron extremely thankful that he was on his side. His Dragon had a thick neck, but it could stretch out and whip about as fast as his tail. After that realization he seemed to take it onto himself to get his own meals, meandering off for a day at a time and leaving Ron alone. At first he had fretted about his dragons safety, then he had spent an entire hour thinking up different ways to call himself stupid. Fretting about a dragon was about as pointless as drowning a fish, you just didn't need to worry. However, with Forge being away Ron had more time on his hands, and that didn't bode well with him.

Now, however, was not one of those moments. Ron gazed over the cliffs edge, his hair whipping about his face from the strong wind. It was getting colder, fall had already gripped the mountains, but Ron had forgone his jacket (as he had most summer) in favour of his brown cargo pants and a dirty rust coloured tee. He was beginning to wish he had at least worn a long sleeved shirt.

He was very familiar with this cliff, he had come here quite often when he needed a good hike to get rid of his excess energy. It had originally taken him an entire day to find this location, now he could make it there in about five hours. It was the same cliff he had stood upon before being led to Forge and his mother, and it was the best place he could think of for this lesson. He looked away from the edge, squinting in the sunlight at his brown and orange friend.

"Well," he called out and Forge looked at him. Ron nodded into the expanse over the edge. "Off ye go." The dragon stared at him a moment and then lost interest, looking back out over the cliff at the mountains in the far distance curiously. Ron waited expectantly a moment, but when it became apparent that the creature wasn't going to move he sighed and tried again.

"Forge! Over the cliff with you, you've got to learn how to fly sometime!" Forge didn't even acknowledge him that time. "Oi! Ye big stupid oaf! Go! Jump! Fly!" Ron jumped up and down a bit, and even flapped his arms ridiculously to try and get his point across. Forge seemed entertained by this and started a little shuffle on his powerful front arms, scratching up the ground beneath him and bobbing his head in an odd sort of way.

"No! This isn't a dance class, it's a flying class and if you don't jump and learn to fly soon yer never gonna get off the ground!" Ron gesticulated over the cliff some more, careful not to lose his balance in the strong wind and becoming frustrated by the lack of action being taken. It wasn't that difficult a point to grasp: jump off the cliff, spread those fantastically massive wings, and fly. There was nothing to it. When it became apparent that Forge was not understanding him he silently ordered Whip to unfurl from its thick coil around his wrist and easily flicked it over to wrap around Forge's front leg.

Ron looked at the dragon and thought about flight, hoping it would get the point across. He felt confusion, excitement, alertness, but no real understanding of what Ron was trying to say. In the end he shook Whip from Forge's limb and the dragon turned back to stare out over the cliff again, like a big dog seeing something across a lake. Whip slickly wrapped up Ron's arm again, this time stopping just below his arm pit. Ron glared at the dragon; he hadn't come all this way to not accomplish his goal. For a moment he considered trying to push him over, but he didn't relish the idea of an irritated and/or aggressive dragon, not to mention that the brute was heavy. They might be well acquainted, but Forge still had a dragon's temper and instinct and he often reacted without thought to Ron's safety. Well, the way Ron reacted without thought to others safety made that the one trait they shared.

He looked over his shoulder at the fairies who had insisted on this location for the leap of faith. It had been their idea to come out here in the first place, so they could figure out what to do next. How they thought he could accomplish this was beyond him.

"Well, he isn't biting. Do you have any great ideas or can I go home and eat that fish I caught this morning?" They looked at him blankly and he turned his back on them in irritation. They were great at starting things but sometimes they just didn't think their plans through. Hermione would have known what to do. He glared out at the horizon, refusing to continue that thought. Besides, Ron sure as hell wouldn't jump off this cliff so he honestly couldn't see any reason for Forge being interested in trying it. Fine, he'd had enough of this.

"I'm going bac-oofff." He didn't finish his sentence as two heavy objects smashed into his back, knocking the air from his chest and sending him hurtling head first over the cliff. The force of the blow sent him far from the face but he didn't notice this as he was flailing his arms about in the air, free falling to his death. The air refused to catch in his lungs, the trees below were rushing closer by the second and somewhere in the back of his mind he thought he should apparate but he couldn't get his mind around the concept as the ground was coming up so fast. He was stuck, wind whipping into his eyes and painfully blurring his vision, a high whistling was assaulting his ears and his stomach was stuck in a moment of suspension that made him queasy in a way he had never been before. Then, in the blink of an eye, all his senses came crashing back into him and he was jerked to a violent halt in mid air, squeezing the last of his depleted air from his lungs. For a moment his vision swam and then his world greyed and went dark.

When he came too he was lying back at the top of the cliff, sprawled awkwardly on his side with one arm over his head and the other half pinned beneath him. A sharp rock was digging into his ribs and he felt a bit queasy. The world swam before his eyes a moment as he opened them, but when he was able to focus he noticed that a large, sharply clawed foot was standing less then a foot away. Cautiously he looked up to determine which way he would have to move to avoid being crushed, and he was met with a thick, hot and slimy blue tongue that slurped across his neck and face. He froze, waiting in confusion to see what happened next only to have Forge lean over and nudge him in the stomach with his snout, forcing him to sprawl onto his back.

"Hey, I'm okay." He tried to reassure him, wondering himself if that were the case as his memory of the last dew minutes came back to him. He looked around angrily, trying to find the sources of his aggression and trying to wipe the dragon drool from his face. When he couldn't see them anywhere he swore and pushed himself to a sitting position, glaring up at the dragon that was hovering over him. "They pushed me! Those smarmy little flobber turds!" He yelled and struggled to his feet, looking around for them once more. He swayed dangerously a moment, feeling light headed as his vision darkened briefly and then snapped back to focus. His face was hot in his anger and no doubt beat red as he glared at the trees searchingly. They had disappeared, avoiding his wrath, and that was perhaps the best decision they'd made all day!

"The next time they come around, do us a favour and roast them would you? Bloody fairies." He stepped away from the dragon then, noticing a pain in his left arm that hadn't been there before. He looked at it carefully, expecting to see a cut or scratch of some kind, and was momentarily bewildered by what was there. He brought his arm up for a closer inspection. This was something new.

He carefully probed the large patch of skin on his forearm, feeling around the imbedded pieces that were sticking out from all directions. The shimmering surface of the very thin diamond shaped protrusions was veined with delicate brow-orange lines, and while they didn't look like they had dug far beneath the skins surface he knew they were razor sharp. He looked at Forge, who seemed to have lost interest in him now that he was up and moving. There was no doubt that these were his scales, but they must have come from his massive arms as Ron hadn't really seen them anywhere else on his leathery body. Ron reached over his shoulder to feel where the stinging in his back had been before pulling away quickly, nicking the tip of his finger. He looked at the dragon in amazement, suddenly realising that he had jerked to a halt in his death fall because Forge had caught him in his massive claws. He stared in astonishment as the massive animal exhaled a cloud of smoke, the deep orange spines along his back were standing right on end, making him look absolutely deadly, and his head swayed back and forth as he keenly gazed out.

The bugger had learned how to fly to save his life, and he had pretty much kissed him! He didn't know why, but Ron suddenly felt elated and he couldn't control the stupid grin that split his face. His dragon had learned how to fly!

"Go on." He encouraged as Forge turned his inquisitive eyes on Ron. Ron pointed out over the horizon. "Go." The animal looked away and then back at Ron, uncertain. Ron let his grin slip away, understanding his friends dilemma. He walked carefully up to him and waited a moment for the massive head to lower to his not inconsiderable height. The dragon's snout was warm and leathery under his hands, just like its mothers had been, only he had a different patchwork of orange drifting over his brown face. Ron looked him in the eye a moment, trying to convey his thanks though he wasn't sure if it would be understood, before he stepped back again and once more pointed out into the open sky.

"Go." He was almost knocked off his feet by the force of wind created as Forge lifted his massive form off the ground and propelled himself over the edge, dragging some small rocks over the cliff with him. Ron watched until his form was no more then a dot in the far distance and then he apparated back to his home. He spent the rest of the evening picking the sharp dragon scales from his flesh and tending the wounds (though they were small and would have healed by the next morning without his care). He cooked his normal bland meal over a small fire with an old wrought iron pan he had acquired months before. He collected some firewood and he went to his bunk where he perched silently, refusing to miss the dragon that had moved on with his life. When Howlite and Hornblend emerged from under the sleeping bag in the corner of this tiny place Ron didn't chase them away as they deserved. He felt utterly alone.

**TBC**

Well, I'm really glad that everyone seems to be enjoying my fairies and the whip! I felt that Ron needed a little help and since I'm too mean to give him any of his friends back I decided they would do ;)

catc10, to answer your question I am going to say that there are some injuries that no creature can recover from. It comes to a point where we need to question exactly how much is believable and how overboard we can go. And saying that is probably the first dig of the shovel that is creating a nice big hole for me to jump into :)

Harry Lvr, I forget that the entire world doesn't revolve around my own seasons ;) Here's the basic break down of the seasons I worked with (and I'm _assuming_ that it's the same in Romania): Officially Summer starts July 21 (but in actuality it's from mid June on). Fall is September 21 (but cold weather starts in Oct.). Winter is Dec 21 (but it's Jan. that it's deadly cold…and Feb…and March…until the end of marchish) and spring is March 21 (but in reality it's more like late May). However, this is just Ontario, which is the centre of Canada not on the coast (where province's like NewFoundland are hit Hard.) or the west coast where Vancouver has easier weather because of the Pacific. So, geography is over…I hope that helps a bit!

I'm very glad that the scene with the Dragon in the last chapter went over well! I try to make things emotional but you know how sometimes you question whether it's branching into general sappiness? I was very happy to see that this wasn't the case!

Blaaat, welcome back ;) that comment wasn't directed at you, I knew you'd come back eventually (I also always wonder where's I'd be if I didn't procrastinate so much :) The entire issue with Giles did emerge and end really abruptly didn't it. I know I could have stretched it out longer, but there was so much I wanted to put in this story that I didn't allow myself to get to far into it. I tend to do that a lot in my writing and it's something I'm working to change, so I apologise if future scenarios are also abrupt.

Chapter 14, with Tonks and Ron's POV's…I was trying to be tricky ;)

As for the title of this story…I want to change it again. But don't worry, I won't! At least not until it's been completely posted and done with. I'm thinking that "Wayward Son" is more appropriate, but who knows what it will be when I finally get around to changing it again ;)

Again, thank you everyone!

**Next Update:** August 31, 2005


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

The cold December wind sliced through his heavy winter robes and clawed at the clothes beneath, desperately trying to get to his flesh. If he hadn't known any better he would have thought the element possessed, but it was winter and this was harsh country not known for hospitality from its people or its terrain. Icy wind was the least of his worries in this place. Nevertheless, it was a relief to leave its enveloping grip and step into the dimly lit interior of the local antiques store. He paused a moment to let his sight adjust and to revel in the smell of things that are old (he would never tire of such a pleasure). When he moved forward his light footsteps were easily heard in the silence but he was used to such echoes, seeing as he had been teaching at Hogwarts for the last year and the emptied halls let no sound go unheard. He rubbed his hands together under the faded grey gloves, trying to warm them up. His toes were just as numb but there was nothing he could do about that right now.

He stopped and gazed at a small monkey sculpture and smiled when its head bounced around randomly when prodded. There was a beautiful old globe resting on one side table that would look wonderful in his office, but alas he didn't have much money to spend and the last thing he was going to use it on was something to satisfy his materialistic values. He had never held much to those notions anyway. His sensitive ears twitched and he heard the quiet breathing of the shop owner from across the room, but he refrained from looking up. The antique dealer was taking a moment to study his customer before announcing his presence and he wasn't inclined announce his awareness of his surroundings. Instead he pretended to examine a spoon.

"It looks rudimentary but I assure you it was handcrafted over two hundred years ago. Quite rare indeed!" The thickly accented voice broke the silence and Lupin looked up, his lips quirking as he looked at the tall shop keeper. The man had glasses that reminded him of Harry, owlish eyes blinking behind the thick lenses.

"It is beautiful, but unfortunately I don't have any real interest in spoons." He put the utensil back down carefully and moved to the next item, pretending to be interested in it.

"Oh? Perhaps I can help you find what it is you search for Mr…"

"Lupin." Remus supplied as he moved slowly along the table.

"I am called Piotr, and as owner of this establishment I might be able to find an item of interest for you."

"Thank you, but I think for now I will simply look around."

"That will not be a problem, please, enjoy." Piotr walked quietly to his counter and sat in a rickety old chair, pretending to look through an old book. Lupin moved slowly, playing along in this game of question and answer. Hopefully acquiring what he came here for wouldn't take too long as he didn't like the feel of this town, it made the hair stand up on the back of his neck. He was looking through a pile of dusty volumes, not recognizing the language but assuming it was the native tongue, when the owner spoke up again with an air of slight curiosity but no real interest.

"Pardon me for saying, but you don't look familiar. Are you from out of town?"

"I am, just passing through."

"I see. You will forgive me for being curious, as our humble town has only seen one stranger in the last three and a half years."

"That's not what I've heard." Lupin looked carefully at a small black tin before placing it back on top of its larger doppelganger. He looked over his shoulder and watched Piotr stare at him a moment, before the man shook his head and pursed his lips.

"You should not come in the day light, the villagers here do not take kindly to strangers. It's a miracle the last one made it out unharmed." Lupin frowned at this. When he had been informed that this store had what he wanted the informant had neglected to mention such an important point. But he was here now, so he might as well get what he needed and get out.

"I was unaware of this. Perhaps we should conclude our business accordingly then."

"Indeed. What is it you seek?"

"An amulet that has a centre of aperture quartz." The taller man stared hard at Lupin a moment before turning and leaving the room. He came back a moment later carrying a brown pouch smaller then his palm. He stopped directly in front of Lupin and the werewolf could smell a hint of unease surrounding him, as well as excitement to be selling such an extravagant item. Piotr opened the bag and carefully tipped it so the silver encircled crystal fell into his hand, picking up on the few rays of light leaking in from the dirty windows.

"This is the one, though it will cost you a great deal. There are not many left circulating the markets." Lupin picked it up and examined it carefully, and he felt relief when he realized that this was exactly what he had been searching for.

"Name your price."

After the rare crystal was tucked carefully in his deepest pockets Remus headed to the door and stepped back out into the cold, wrapping his robes tightly around his self. He was not ashamed to admit that he could never have purchased such an item with his own money. Being a werewolf had created far too few job prospects over the years and he had more often then not found himself in want of a decent meal and some clean clothes. Teaching defence against the dark arts the first time at Hogwarts had been his first decently paying job in several years. When Harry had defeated the bane of the wizarding world Lupin had declined an offer to return to the school, instead he took up a position at the ministry in the auror department, teaching the new recruits spells that Harry (and his two best friends) had already learned. It was only this last year he had returned to the school. So really, he'd never had a proper chance to build up any funds of his own.

Serius, however, had felt that it was necessary to divide his entire will between Harry and Remus himself. Now, as the wind tried to freeze the tip of his nose Lupin was grateful for the small fortune, because there was no other way he would be able to afford such an important ingredient. With this crystal he would be able to (with the aid of Molly and Snape) cast a spell that would allow a creature to find anyone in the world. They would be able to find Ron. Remus felt absolutely no guilt spending the money on this tiny little stone. Ron needed to be found, he had been living in fear for far too long.

The icy snow crunched beneath his feet as he travelled down the slippery road to the end of town. He had arrived by apparrating to the forest and then walked up, he planned to leave the same way. He was getting nervous though, as there were many more men and women on the road then there had been a mere twenty minutes before, and they seemed to be honing in on him as he walked quickly down the street. When four burly young men stepped into his path, just twenty meters from the edge of town he knew he was in serious trouble and he began to silently curse himself. He should have waited in the store, or gone out a back way. He had walked right into this in his eagerness to get the quartz.

He slowly began to withdraw his right arm, wand clutched carefully in his hand, but he didn't make it very far as something solid slammed into his back and drove him painfully to his knees. He took only a second to catch his breath before looking up calmly, hoping to talk his way out of this mess. The crowd of no less then fifteen people swarmed around him as he kneeled in the snow, one middle aged man bent down and picked up his wand, which had been knocked from his hand, looking at it in confusion.

"I'm sorry if I've caused any harm here, I was unaware that strangers were not welcome in your town." He held up his arms placating, hoping to calm them when he was struck on his back again, knocking the air out of him. He was vaguely aware of a voice cutting through the crowd, yelling loudly as he tried to catch his breath and focus. He saw that a man dressed in brown pants and a thick, ratty sweater with a yellow stained apron was talking heatedly with one of the men who had blocked his path. This man didn't seem affected by the cold as he gesticulated angrily at Lupin and then at the crowd, before turning on Lupin himself.

"What is your purpose in this town?" He demanded and Lupin answered the only way he thought he should, not wanting to get the antique dealer in any more trouble then he might already be in.

"I'm just passing through." The apron man translated this to the crowd and a dark grumble passed through the group as several more, louder voices joined the argument.

"They don't believe that a normal man can come from the woods to our town without more purpose."

"Do they honestly think I look like a threat?" It was a still two weeks to the next full moon and Remus had lost his wand. While he could hold his own in a fight he had no illusions of coming out triumphantly against this crowd. He slowly started to get to his feet when someone kicked his legs out from behind and he landed on his back, staring up at the crowd. He saw that one man was holding a shovel while several others brandished an array of knives and other gardening implements. Was that a crossbow? He rolled onto his stomach and slowly started to push himself to his knees, where he waited, feeling a pain pull at his entire back, already impeding his movements.

"He says only a foul creature of the woods would wander unafraid into this town."

"I'm no creature. It's true I came from the forest, but I hitched a ride in a truck most of the way. I was dropped off not far from this place. I can show you where." There was a rapid exchange of words and the crowd fell silent, staring at him with hostility. It was clear that he wasn't getting through to them. The man with the dark hair spit on him, the slimy glob dribbled slowly down the front of his robe and Lupin glared at the leader of the horde. Reason wasn't going to work and the man in the apron looked at him with something akin to regret before moving out of the crowd. Lupin didn't blame him, he was no more capable of stopping them then Lupin currently was, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to try. He prepared to act as the hostility of the crowd seemed on the verge of ruling their actions when a calm (almost lazy) and utterly English voice cut above the angry shouts.

"It would appear that you're all a bit confused, he doesn't look harmful at all to me; I doubt he's the one you should be worried about." Lupin looked up but couldn't see who it was speaking up for him past all the bodies that were packed so tightly around. The crowd had, however, seemed to have lost some of their interest in beating him to death at that moment, which he was thankful for. The man with his wand was to his right, but the path to him was blocked by a rather terrifying woman who angrily clutched a meat cleaver and looked well equipped to use it. He could knock her away easily, but the three young men standing beside them would stop him before he proceeded further then that.

His knees were becoming numb from the snow and his robes were no longer holding the chill at bay. He looked around as the group was watched the English speaking newcomer beyond his view and decided that maybe he could get to his feet without to much protest. Slowly he got one leg under him and began to rise, when there were hands grabbing him from behind and showing him, face first, into the snow. He saw stars a moment as his forehead collided painfully with the ground and the wind was knocked from him again. A booted foot connected solidly where he lay and he gasped sharply. Before he could move a heel (probably from the same boot that kicked him) dug into his back and pinned him to the ground. He glared at the legs standing around him, it was then he noticed that the apron clad man had joined the group again, translating what the stranger had said. The leader stood even taller as he angrily spit words at the newcomer.

"He says you're the one who is confused, that you have no idea what that filth on the ground is capable of."

"Oh, I think I have a general idea."

"He wants to know why he shouldn't lay you next to him, since you seem to have something in common with him."

"Do I? Well, I suppose it would be irresponsible to deny it…" there was an aggravated muttering through the crowd and the boot dug deeper into his back, forcing a grimace from him even as Lupin listened intently. "I'll pass on joining him though, it doesn't look all that comfortable down there. I will, however, ask you to let him up." There was a moment of translation, a second of silence, and then the crowd seemed to burst into laughter as one; mocking, perilous laughter that bordered on hysteria as these towns people tried to figure out what to do. Lupin knew that they had probably never been challenged in such a manner. The man in the apron, Lupin saw, didn't seem at all happy with this situation, but then the crowd next to the interpreter and leader split, and a tall, broad shouldered and brown haired man stepped into the centre of the group. Lupin stared at the man as he stood there in his long, well worn jacket, looking for all the world as though he jumped into violent mobs daily. He tried to see the mans face, but could only make out the back of his brown head and jaw line. There was a smudge of dirt on his neck.

"Why is he still on the ground?" The English man's voice cut into the laughter. Gone was the blithe tone that had been in his voice only moments before, and in its place was the voice of a man hardened by life, the voice of someone that didn't like to be disobeyed. The leader shifted on his feet, but he stood defiantly and sneered in a way that would have made Snape proud.

"He is a creature from the woods, he is dangerous, and we will deal with him as we see fit." Was the snarled reply.

"He's not the one that you should be worried about." The tall man was staring down the groups leader, who suddenly seemed a lot more uncertain as he remained defiant. Lupin could smell the crowds emotions shift from hostility to anger and unease. "Let him go," he stepped forward slowly, entering the leaders personal space and forcing the man to take a step backwards, "because I will protect him, and that will not bode well for your town." Tension crackled and the air suddenly felt charged with energy. The flowing aura of magic was unmistakable to Lupin, but he doubted the others would recognize the charge as such.

"What are you?"

"I'm nothing. Now, let him up." The boot shifted from his back almost immediately and Lupin quickly stood, doing his best not to sway in pain or light headedness. "Give him back his stick." He ordered and the man who held it glared back at him defiantly. For a moment Lupin feared he would snap it in spite, and was about to move forward when it came flying through the air, right at him. He caught it and felt immediate relief as he could once again defend himself fully. He turned to look at the stranger, who was still staring at the dark haired man as though he was perfectly capable of tearing his internal organs out through his pores if he was given the tiniest excuse. It was a look that Lupin had seen before, when a young man had been protecting his best friend from a murderer, and it held real threat. He was looking at Ron Weasley. He pulled in a sharp breath, inhaling the young mans slightly changed but familiar scent and he belatedly wondered how he hadn't realized right from the start. He didn't show any other reaction though, and as Ron turned and walked out of the crowd whom hastily parted before him, Lupin moved beside him and they briskly retreated down the road together.

"Walk faster. The second they remember they have projectile weapons we're in trouble." Ron ordered but Lupin couldn't reply, trying to keep up with the younger mans longer stride was absurdly difficult at the moment, as his chest felt like it might explode and his back was cramping painfully. They reached the edge of town and followed the road, the deep snow making it difficult for Lupin to walk as they passed an empty pasture. In the distance, mountains loomed, but closer to them the road disappeared into the forest. Lupin heard a slight whooshing sound and looked sharply at the tail of an arrow now sticking up from the snow just in front of him. Ron swore.

"Can you apparate?" He asked harshly, breaking the tense silence.

"Yes, but I need the coordinates." He lifted his wand to prepare and froze as Ron roughly grabbed his wrist in a grip of iron, halting his action.

"Just apparate, I'll take you where we need to go." Lupin looked at him, trying to meet his eyes but Ron avoided the gaze by looking back at the group of villagers that Lupin could hear approaching. There was no time to argue, so Lupin did as asked, and prayed he came out of it all right.

**TBC**

Sorry, I have no time for comments right now. I'll write to you all next chapter!

**Next update:** Sept 2, 2005


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

They reappeared in a small clearing where the snow reached to their knees and the harsh wind howled through the trees. Remus exhaled sharply as he gained his bearing, waiting that brief moment it always took to right himself in the world. The moment his balance regained he became aware of two things: First, despite not knowing where he had been apparating to (which was an action that usually ended very badly for the traveller), he was alive and in one piece. The second thing he noticed was the tight grip that had his wand arm completely immobilized to the point where his fingers were beginning to tingle. He turned his gaze away from the gloved hand gripping him and looked up at Ron Weasley, understanding immediately why the young man was gripping him so tightly and had yet to let go.

The long lost red-head was staring at his wand with an array of emotions that were probably meant to be unreadable but were very clear to the werewolf. The focused blue eyes were radiating confusion that mingled heavily with mistrust and warning. However, the fear that wasn't present in the intimidating gaze was saturating the air in his scent. Whatever reasons Ron had, he was afraid of Lupin's wand, and in effect he was showing how afraid he was of Remus himself. He felt sick that this man, whom Lupin had only ever known friendship for, had seemingly lost the trust that had been so eagerly and wholeheartedly given only years before. Remus smiled weakly in what he hoped was a calming manner and then spoke in what he considered his most reasonable tone of voice.

"Ron, relax. I'm not going to hurt you, I just need my arm back so I can put my wand away." The spell of inaction was broken suddenly as Ron jerked back, releasing Lupin as though he had been burned and then smoothly stepping two paces away. The intense eyes watched carefully as he slowly but casually slid his wand back into his pocket and then removed his hand to show that it was empty. At this Ron relaxed his stance a bit, but there was no improvement to the tenseness in the air as he stared at Lupin without meeting his eyes, which was instantly unsettling to the professor, who made his connection with people mainly through eye contact.

"Right then." Ron suddenly spoke, rubbing the back of his neck as though uncertain what to do next before letting his arms fall lightly to his sides. Lupin studied his pale features; he looked more drained then he had in the village only moments before. "I can't say I expected to see you being attacked by paranoid muggles out in a non-existent village in Romania."

"I am, however, glad that you did happen by to see me." Lupin replied and smiled. This, however, didn't seem to faze Ron's carefully calculating gaze. If Lupin hadn't been able to use his canine senses to smell the man, he would have thought Ron didn't care at all about this meeting.

"No doubt." Ron blinked at him and Lupin swayed a bit on his feet. He was feeling more drained by the minute, and the cold, mixed with his injuries, wasn't helping his concentration. However, his joy at seeing this man alive and in one piece after so long lifted a weight that he hadn't even realized had been resting on his shoulders. Ron's indifferent demeanour cracked slightly as Lupin braced himself on his feet a moment to keep from falling. He took a half step forward as if to help but thought better of it and stayed where he was; Lupin could smell the suddenly intense concern.

"I'd like to send you to a doctor Lupin, but there are some problems with that plan." The blue eyes deliberately met his own for the first time and Ron stared searchingly. "Do you need one?" It was a simple question, which should have required a simple answer, but the true intention behind it forced Lupin to seriously contemplate his answer. He felt weak, drained and a bit dizzy. He feared he might have a cracked rib or two and who knows if any internal damage had occurred due to the force of the shovel that had slammed hatefully into him only minutes before. He sure as hell felt like he needed to see a healer, but there was defiantly, as Ron said, problems with that plan.

If he decided to leave, he would lose Ron. There wasn't a doubt there. Ron was purposely and successfully hiding from them, and had been for a long time now. It was clear that he was currently settled in somewhere nearby, perhaps in a town like the one they had just left. If Lupin decided that he needed a healer then Ron would take to one, there was no doubt of it, but then Ron would pack up and leave the country before Lupin would have a chance send anyone to find him. It wasn't that difficult a choice to make: He wasn't about to lose this man after finally happening upon him, but maybe there was a way around it.

"Ron, your family-"

"I'm not going back." Lupin was viciously cut off and he stared a moment in shock at the vehemence in Ron's voice. As if a switch had been thrown Ron's hair was suddenly its bold flaming red and a scent of fierce determination settled in the air that Lupin knew he wouldn't be able to break through unless he had more time. Ron was not going to listen to any reasoning at the moment, and there was an underlying panic within him for even having to contemplate a decision like that right now.

"I don't need a healer." He determined and Ron looked relieved.

"Good. Follow me, my shelter's not far from here." Then, surprisingly, he turned his back and began walking through the deep snow. Lupin wasn't a fool, he could sense the wariness in the boy, but this action warmed him slightly, because Ron was trying to subtly inform him that he didn't see him as too much of a threat, at least not at that moment. Lupin followed the slow pace, feeling his body protest the movement and suddenly he became aware of the chill creeping into his bones. His hands, toes, ears and nose were numb and the air suddenly seemed to be trying to freeze his throat if he breathed too deeply. It was a good thing his chest hurt too much to take large breaths. In his misery he was warmed to notice that Ron was dragging his feet as much as possible, trying to make the path easier to walk on.

It was only a few minutes later that they stumbled into another, much larger clearing at the base of a small, tree covered cliff and Lupin instantly noted how many imprints were in the snow in this clearing. Ron walked straight to the cliff face and then turned to watch Lupin carefully as he staggered to join him, wondering why they were stopping here. Then Ron lifted some large pine branches out of the way and pushed open a rickety, patched together wooden door that led to what appeared to be a cave. Lupin looked at it in slight surprise.

"You live in a cave?"

"For now. Get in and sit on the cot before you fall down." He ordered and Lupin did so, his eyes easily adjusting to the sudden darkness in the room. He looked around the small space and spotted the cot sitting dejectedly in the far corner; he carefully eased himself onto the hard mattress, noting that the blankets were as chill as the now windless air and would take a while to heat up. He slouched slightly and forced himself to ignore the tiny cramps attacking his back. They would only get worse.

He looked around quickly, noting that while most of the cavern was surrounded by rock walls and ceiling, Ron had had to build a wall that stretched to the seven and a half foot ceiling. Sturdy tree trunks (that looked very heavy) comprised the main wall and there was dried mud firmly imbedded in the cracks. The door made from sticks was attached with a dull orange rope. Lupin would never have guessed, from the outside of this abode, that there was anything but a rock face and shrubs there.

He watched as Ron almost silently moved about the small room and started a fire in a tiny niche in the rock less then a meter away from the cot. Lupin looked at it, feeling the shivers racking his body and wondering how the hell Ron managed to stay warm with only that little fire.

"Do you mind if I warm the room?" He asked, unwilling to brandish his wand without permission. Ron looked at him and then nodded silently, backing off to stand near the door and watched Lupin. He pulled his wand and cast a charm that had the room in liveable temperature immediately. He didn't remember young Ron ever having such an intense, not to mention intimidating, air about him. People changed though, and circumstance had been so far from kind to this boy. Lupin knew all about Ron's abilities as a chaneller, all about how he had hidden them in fear and all the trouble and pain he had suffered because of those fears. Lupin understood only to well how the need to hide yourself from others could rule your actions, but now was not the time to remind Ron of that. A cough tickled Lupins throat and he groaned slightly as the action caused agony to erupt in his chest.

"I don't have anything here to help with your injuries." He informed Lupin and then he was moving quickly, pouring water from a bucket into a pot and setting the pot into to the small fires flames. "I can offer you hot water to help with the chill and thirst, and we can soak some rags in it to help ease your muscle spasms. You'll need to take off your shirt so we can assess your injuries." Ron ordered and then gracefully shucked his own jacket and tossed it onto a pile of items in the opposite corner of the cot. All he wore beneath it were a pair of worn brown corduroy's and a faded green t-shirt. He then set to unpacking the large sack he had been carrying since they left the town, piling cans in a rough net made from a bunch of pine branches woven tightly together and hanging from the wooden wall by some more of that orange rope.

Lupin shrugged painfully out of his robes and then worked his way, just as painfully, out from under his sweater and undershirt. Ron approached and crouched down a few feet away, gazing over Lupins torso.

"Looks painful." Lupin didn't need to reply. He determined that his ribs weren't fractured, merely bruised, as was the same for the rest of his body. That didn't make the pain go away though. A few minutes later Ron was placing the medium sized pot of now hot water in front of him and was dropping what looked like a red shirt into it, when Lupin's attention was drawn to his hands, now uncovered by the winter gloves. He saw something that was out of place and he frowned.

"What is that?" He reached to point at it and Ron reared back, standing to his full height and glaring down at Lupin in fear and anger which had Lupin jerking back in retreat, instantly cursing his lack of judgement. Ron was helping him, but Lupin did not know this man before him and it was stupid to make fast moves as though he were going to touch him. He was taking allowances that the old Ron would have accepted, not this one, who was now staring at him with so many confused and angry emotions Lupin didn't know which one Ron felt the most. Neither did Ron apparently, but anger was the safest route at the moment and he latched onto it only seconds after standing.

"None of yer business is what it is!" He snapped and hid his arm a moment behind his back. When it reappeared fully the thick red streaks and black cord that had been wrapped around his hand and arm were gone. Remus was instantly worried that it was somehow damaging Ron, but it was clear that right now he didn't have the right to ask as the defensive Weasley pulled himself to his impressive height of six foot three and stared harshly at Lupin. He got that look from Molly.

"I only ask because I'm worried about you. I didn't mean anything by it." He tried to placate but Ron was having none of it.

"I doesn't matter what you meant by it, it is none of yer business. And since we're on the topic, I'm going to give you a few base rules." Ron crossed his arms defiantly over his chest and backed away another step. "First, yer here because I brought ye hear. I assume you'll be gone as soon as you have enough energy to apparate again, but until then this is what doesn't happen: One, you aren't allowed to ask me personal questions, of any kind. Two, we don't speak about my family or my friends unless I ask the questions. Three, we never discuss Harry, ever." His voice wavered when he said Harry's name but he never stopped glaring. "If you break any of these rules I will knock you out, apparate you to a friendly town, and you will never hear from me again. Clear?" His voice had become more clipped as he spoke and his knuckles were white where they dug into his arms, but there was no room for negotiation.

"Clear." Lupin quietly agreed, watching Ron carefully. The lost boy stared at him a moment, his arms still crossed defensively in front of him and his face was blushing a fierce red. It was with sadness that Lupin watched as Ron began to shake, very slightly, and look around his home in a sudden desperate attempt to find something to do. Then, without a word, Ron grabbed his jacket and headed out the door and into the dimming light outside, leaving Remus alone with his thoughts and pain. He sighed sadly to himself, not knowing what to think or how to help at the moment. He wanted to desperately contact Ron's family, get them up here to convince Ron that he didn't have to hide from them, from their world, but he couldn't, not yet.

He cast another warming spell and then a slight charm that helped ease tense muscles, before he set to work with the hot shirt, resting it over his sorest areas. He would stay as long as Ron would have him, and hopefully he would be able to get Ron to relax enough to actually speak with him. There was a lot Ron needed to know, and a lot that Lupin had yet to understand.

000000

"Get off! Off! Off! Off! Bloody fairies! I'm not going to have any hair left if you keep tearing into it like that!" Ron fumed, swiping at his head and chasing the tiny creatures out of his uncontrollable mop. Lupin grinned at the sight from where he sat on the cot, watching fondly as the creatures laughed and danced around brightly just out of Ron's reach.

"I think they're trying to tell you that it needs a cut."

"What it is right now is the result of my last attempt, I think I'll leave off for a bit thank you." Ron huffed and then went back to mending the large tear in his knee high boots, trying to ignore his friends pestering. Lupin looked at the wild, unkempt and uneven haircut that Ron currently favoured but didn't comment. In all honesty it didn't look that bad, and considering that Lupin hadn't seen a pair of scissors or a mirror anywhere it was probably better then it should be. He got up off the cot and moved to the fire to add more wood, feeling Ron's eyes watching him as he moved, but when he turned to face him the lad was focused completely on his work. The fairies had moved to sit on the shelf that held the only cooking utensils Ron had (which consisted of a cooking pot, single plate, ladle, knife, fork, and spoon), their glowing forms dimming a bit as they rested and carefully watched their charge.

Lupin sat back down on the cot and stiffened slightly as a sharp pain quickly stabbed his chest and then left. After almost two weeks the worst of his bruises had almost completely faded, thanks to some natural herbs Howly and Horns had brought for him, but some of the pain had yet to fade. If he had gone to a healer, he would have been completely healed in a matter of hours. Lupin leaned against the chill cavern wall and pulled his legs onto the bed, kicking off his boots, after a few minutes he straightened his legs out again, only to pull them to his chest moments later.

"You still in a lot of pain?" Ron asked suddenly and Lupin looked over to see Ron folding his jacket up and putting away his dodgy sewing kit. He was surprised by the question, though he shouldn't be.

"No, I'm just a little bit antsy." The wind howled outside and a slight draft seeped into the room.

"Not used to sitting still for long periods of time." Ron surmised.

"I'm not the only one."

"No, but I gather it's not just the lack of distraction that's pulling at you." Ron stood and went to the door, cracking it open and peeking out at the blizzard beyond before shutting it and stalking back over to his log seat and sitting down.

"You're right, though I could say the same to you." Ron had barely touched his food, taken no more then two bites in fact, and he looked paler in the dim light.

"Only thing bothering me is the storm, I don't fancy being stuck in here all day tomorrow." Ron shrugged off the comment and Lupin let him. He didn't know what was bothering Ron, but he knew the lack of activity was a large part of it. Over the last week and a bit Ron had spent very little time in doors, and even less with Lupin as he came in to check on him and eat but not much more. Lupin could smell how tired his companion was, but there was little he could do about it. Ron refused to sleep in his presence, not allowing his guard to drop at all despite the fact that Lupin had never laid a harmful hand on him, nor threatened him. For two weeks the werewolf had cursed that bastard McTagert for his hand in Ron's fear and mistrust, and if the man was still alive he knew that he would no doubt have made plans by now to track him down for a Dementor's kiss.

However, Ron's assessment that there was more bothering Lupin right now was correct, seeing as the next night would be the full moon. The agitation of the anticipation of his change always made him fidgety, especially now that he had next to nothing to distract himself.

"What I need is a book." He muttered and jumped when, a moment later, a heavy black volume landed beside him, he looked at Ron who had moved again to his seat and was staring at Lupin with an intensity that rivalled Hermione's when she was studying for exams.

"It's the only one I have, so read it slowly." Lupin carefully picked up the delicate text and turned to look at the title, there was none. He carefully flipped it open to reveal a name placed boldly on the centre of the first page. **R. Doytil**. He frowned and looked at Ron in question.

"Is this the Doytil from the war of 1713?"

"The very same. I suppose you can have the book, I haven't got much use for it. Not a bloody useful thing in there for me, but ye might find it enlightening."

"He was a chaneller as well?" Ron stiffened at that but nodded, trying to hide his discomfort with the question. Not once had they really spoken yet about anything of importance, especially about Ron's powers.

"He was a monster, and his writing was atrocious as well. Too many big words and not enough detail."

"A monster he was." Lupin agreed, not moving to open the book any further, instead he found himself leaning forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. This was the opening he had been waiting for. "You do realize that not all chaneller's are like him Ron." Ron leaned back sharply, like he'd been slapped but didn't know whether he deserved it or not.

"Perhaps not, but there were enough."

"Ron, you are so far removed from that kind of evil it would be absurd to think of yourself in the same category."

"Shut up!" He hissed, his eyes flashing in anger. "I know I'm not like him, but that doesn't mean I couldn't be!"

"Ron, you alone choose how to act…"

"Yes, I choose how I act, and look what it bloody cost us all! I'm no better then that monster, or any of the others! I killed him! I almost killed Tonks because I was controlled so easily, and I know for a fact that there are some in the ministry who would be glad to have me under their wands." He fumed, fury igniting his eyes. The fairies had stood on their perch but made no move to interfere and Lupin saw the strange winding material, that Ron had hidden from him his first day here, had reappeared on his arm, slinking down from under his shirt and engulfing his clenched, shaking hands. Lupin didn't take personal offence to the attack, he couldn't, not when he knew this was years of built up fear unleashing itself. He could feel the magical energy suddenly rush into the air around them, charging the room the same way it had back in Drasgov.

"But you didn't kill her Ron! You are stronger then you give yourself credit for, and you saved her life!"

"It doesn't change what I did!" There was grief now, filling the room with his anguish and Lupin was stonewalled, not knowing how to react. He watched as Ron suddenly began to pace furiously, his face pale, the bags under his eyes prominent and half hidden by his flaming bangs. Lupin wanted to ask what Ron thought he did, but he instinctively knew that to ask that question would do more harm then good. Ron seemed to believe that there was a reason Lupin should hate him, why everyone should hate him and fear him, and it was this belief that was driving his actions.

"Ron, we don't believe that, none of us! Your family and friends have been worried sick about you!"

"Stop." Ron ordered suddenly and Lupin obeyed, not able to get a clear grasp on all of the different emotions emanating from his friend. Ron moved to the corner he had cleared out and sat on his sleeping bag silently and ignored Lupin, refusing to even look at him. This silence went on for an hour, and once Lupin had finally stopped turning the conversation over in his mind he opened the text and turned to the first chapter and began to read carefully. It was another hour, interspersed with Lupin constantly peeking to see how Ron was doing (glad beyond belief for the presence of the fairies who had perched on his shoulders and were singing quietly to him) before the boy broke the silence again. He surprised Lupin with his topic of choice.

"You don't need to leave tomorrow night."

"I do Ron, it will be full moon."

"I know." Lupin stared at him with sudden worry, wondering if he had finally been pushed over the edge and was looking for death.

"I don't have a supply of wolfsbane."

"I really don't think there is all that much that I need to fear from you. No offence."

"I suppose not, but still, I will not risk your future."

"I hate to tell ye this Lupin, but there are things in this forest that can, and occasionally do, turn werewolves into their main course, and I don't fancy another death on my list. You'll stay, and we will deal with it." Ron picked at the blanket subconsciously. "Or, you could leave to Hogwarts and get yer potion."

"Fine, I will stay, but there will be conditions that I will demand that you follow."

"Such as?"

"I will need to be sufficiently restrained." He could tell that Ron instantly didn't like this idea, but he refrained from comment as he nodded his head in agreement. "And you will carry my wand for extra protection."

"I will not use your wand."

"Then you will carry it to keep me from breaking it. I'm rather fond of the thing." There was a nodding of agreement and they fell silent. It wasn't long after that Lupin slipped into sleep, feeling safe in this inhospitable land even though he could feel Ron's glaring eyes boring into him.

**TBC**

Well. First of all I'm glad that Forge went over well! I'm also glad that Whip seems to be going over well! It's always easier to get along with members of another species when communication is had ;)

Catc10, I speaking of the holes I throw myself into after I contradict myself in later chapters ;)

Harry Lvr, lol, you're hilarious. I think that's the longest run on sentence I've ever seen! As for the sixth sense thing, it will come up and be explained as the story allows ;) Thank you for noticing a writing improvement! I think it gets easier to write the more involved in the story one gets, but it's always great to hear of an improvement!

Kamonkey, I agree that Ron seriously needs to go back to his family! How sad is he! It's just not right. I'm evil.

Scribhneoir, I'm very glad that the details are working out in the characters benefit. It's funny how sometimes it can be so easy and other time so difficult to slip in a casual line about the clothes they're wearing not have it disrupt the story. I also find that Lupin and Ron are similar in this story due to their perspectives of themselves as outsiders. Lupin is a fantastic character, I only hope I continue to do him justice.

Blaat, you and Harry Lvr questioned why the villagers were so hostile. They're a small town unmarked and mostly unrecognized by the outside world. I tried to play up the issue of them never receiving visitors and their weariness of them but I don't think I focused on that point enough ;) As it is there are dangerous things in the forest and I'm playing on the idea that they've been hurt in the past from unexplained presences.

Lol, I'll try and load the chapters in larger chunks from now on. I don't particularly like short chapters myself so I'll try and remedy that.

Anyhow, I have to get to work now. Thanks so much for all your reviews!

**Next update: September 4, 2005**


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

Perched in the hidden safety of the coniferous tree Ron silently watched Remus Lupin putter about below, gathering fallen branches for firewood and humming very lightly to himself. Ron still didn't know quite what to make of the professors odd habit of breaking out in serenade, as it seemed to go against his former image of the normally solemn man. However, over the last week it didn't seem so out of place, and in all honesty it was refreshing, as Ron hadn't heard music since visiting Tomaz's pub. It was that reason that Ron told himself it was okay to perch high in sturdy trees and spy on the man who had come to stay with him unexpectedly. It had nothing to do with him just wanting to be around another human being, especially one that he had considered a friend back at Hogwarts.

Remus moved as silently as a wraith to his accumulating pile of branches and dropped his load to join it, looking at it for a moment as if unsure what to do next. Should he get more wood or head back to the cave? Could he carry what he had or was it already too much? Ron rolled his eyes dramatically at himself; honestly, starting to turn wood gathering into a melodrama was a bit much, even for his entertainment starved mind. Still, he didn't care to stop his silent assessment, well aware that the man knew he was up there and was simply allowing him the illusion of being hidden. He had learned quickly, in their month together, that the werewolf senses didn't disappear with the moon. Oh no, the man had the ears and eyes of an animal, and stealth to match.

Two days after the new moon had begun Ron had been standing in the clearing before his shelter, staring into the woods to see if he could physically notice any changes in the area. Lupin had walked over to join him, not thinking to make his presence heard. Ron had reacted instinctively (who would have known all that training would actually stick?) and had thrown the older man to the ground, halfway to knocking him unconscious with his fists before he realised who it was. Since then Lupin had had to concentrate on making noise when approaching Ron, though opportunities for that didn't happen very often. Ron generally made himself scarce, watching from a safe distance and joining him at night or when the weather was too cold to stay outside for long periods of time.

Hiding from Lupin was defensive for so many reasons. Ron had always liked the professor, even looked up to him when he'd taught them or they met at Grimmauld place, but liking didn't mean he could trust him. The mere fact that Lupin had chosen to stay with Ron rather then see a healer (when he obviously could have used one) was only one strange factor in this entire situation. The mere fact that Ron had run into Lupin at all was suspicious and enough to put him on edge when he chose to dwell on it. Honestly, the likelihood of Ron actually just happening on an unmarked village in Romania while the professor was being attacked by an angry mob was a bit far fetched. Lupin insisted that he'd been there to find a rare crystal, he had even shown it to Ron, but what did he know about crystals? Well, he knew a bit, but not enough to verify that what Lupin held was indeed very rare, and therefore a reasonable alibi.

The truth of the matter was that Ron suspected their encounter had been engineered, but he couldn't figure how anybody would know where he was. He knew he had hidden himself well, he had taken so many precautions. Then he wondered why, if they knew where he was, didn't they just storm him and drag his sorry skinny arse to Azkaban where it belonged? And to top that off, why the hell was Lupin spouting things to him about how it wasn't his fault, that he wasn't evil like he thought, and that his family actually missed him? It was absolute bollocks, and this meant that Ron couldn't trust him. Hell, Ron still couldn't really trust himself, though he had worked hard to gain control over his chanelling capabilities. There were too many _what if's_ surrounding him, and _why's_, and Ron had never liked it when things didn't add up, when he couldn't get a clear picture of what was really going on.

And just why the hell was Lupin insisting on staying in this god forsaken forest in the middle of winter living in a cave! Either the man was more loony then Luvgood, or he was up to something. Yet, despite all this confusion and fear, Ron was glad he was there. He learned of his family when he dared to ask, and he really did miss being around people. He would have loved to be able to just act like he used to, be friendly and laugh and play stupid jokes. But then he remembered that his best friend wouldn't be able to join in, and it would become a moot point and his mood would sour. It was usually at that point that Ron would run into the forest until his lungs burned and his legs felt wobbly.

Through the heavy pine branches he could see that Lupin had decided he had enough wood and began tying the rope Ron had given him around the stack, swinging it onto his back like a sack of potatoes and heading back to the shelter. Ron gripped at the bark he was sitting on and looked to the next trees best branch, only five feet away. He let go of his perch and leapt to the next one gracefully. Swinging around to the other side of the thick trunk he then leapt to another branch, this one farther away. If he had been a normal boy, like he had been before his energy powers came about, he would never have dared a stunt like this without death being literally on his tail.

He had discovered though, a week ago, that calling upon the excess energy of the forest around him could help him slightly levitate his self, much like when he called objects to him without a wand. It was a neat trick, but he knew that if he were to attempt anything other then the smaller leaps, he would fall. It took enough energy just to gather the strength to carry himself through the trees, he was fairly certain that trying to over tax his power would drain him. Much like it had when he had apparated with Lupin to his home. If Lupin had seriously needed a healer at that time (and Ron knew the man hadn't the energy to apparate himself to one) Ron wasn't sure he would have been able to safely help.

However, that didn't matter now as small leaps of faith carried him soundly through the tree tops like a fire headed monkey and he came to the edge of the forest to look down on Lupin piling away his collection of kindling. What he saw, however, was far from what he expected. Lupin had dropped his heavy stack and brandished both his wand and the small axe Ron had lent him. He was standing firmly, his legs planted and his face a mixture of stoic surprise as he stared up at the fire breathing dragon not five meters away from him. The dragon, for his part, looked just as startled to see Lupin there, his back spurs were standing tall and threatening and the smoke billowing from his orange nostrils was a sure sign of his dangerous agitation. They both looked like neither knew what to do, but it was clear that the dragon was preparing to remedy that situation. Ron panicked, because as much as he couldn't trust Lupin, he still liked him and didn't want him to end up a charbroiled dragon snack. He grabbed at a branch and leaned out of the clearing of the foliage, opening his lungs loudly.

"Forge No! Lupin! No! Ah!" The branch snapped and he sucked in a breath of fear as he toppled out of the tree and began to fall head first to the ground below. Smashing into branches as he fell he completely missed the look of astonishment and then fear that passed over his human companions face, as well as the sudden fire that shot from his dragon snout to burn the ground in his surprise. Ron flicked his wrist and Whip uncoiled rapidly, but it was no use as the ground was coming up too fast. He prepared himself for the painful landing when, abruptly, he stopped falling only two meters from the ground. A moment later he was lowered gently and released as Lupin spun back to point his wand at the Dragon once again.

"Remus! Don't hurt him! He doesn't know yer my friend! Forge!" The dragon looked at him with a cocked head, his wings flared majestically to make himself appear larger and his body rigid with tension, not understanding what was going on. But at least he looked at Ron, and seemed to recognize him, still Ron wasn't sure how to stop him from toasting the werewolf. "Forge! No, back." Ron ran and stepped in front of Lupin, though he was careful to stand a good two feet away. If Lupin noticed the distance he didn't say anything. He never said anything about how Ron refused to let him get close enough to touch him. Ron looked at his dragon carefully a moment when, as though reading his mind, Forge stuck out his right arm. Ron couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips at the action, and carefully flicked his wrist so that Whip curled gently around the offered limb. It took a few minutes, but Forge finally agreed that if Ron said his human companion was a friend and not to be eaten, then he wouldn't eat him. He snorted some smoke in agreement and Ron uncoiled the whip and stepped boldly up to him, placing his hand on the smoking snout.

"It's good to see you Forge. I never thought you would come back." The beautiful creature ducked his head and knocked Ron lightly on the shoulder, which almost had Ron falling to the snow covered ground. It was an odd display of affection, but one that his friend had adapted shortly before he learnt to fly. Ron looked down the animals long bowed neck and was glad to see that his spurs had relaxed and his wings were tucked close to his body. It was then that a Ron saw the oozing red liquid marring his dragon's thick hide, just below his right wing.

"Bloody hell Forge, what happened?" He moved slowly around Forge to the animals side, only to have the head follow and start to lick at the wound that Ron could now see clearly. Or three wounds to be exact. He looked over to Lupin, who was silently watching him, Ron could see the questions in his eyes, but he didn't have time to answer them just yet.

"Lupin, could you get me that shirt we used as a rag and the bucket of water?" Lupin nodded and disappeared into the shelter, emerging moments later to see Ron carefully examining the gashes and softly admonishing the orange and brown dragon. Ron didn't touch the wounds, as Forge seemed protective of them, his head blocking a clear path to them as he tried to tend to them him self. What Ron could see told him that they weren't too serious. They would have killed a human instantly, but on a dragon this size with such thick skin they were merely very painful. They could use a good cleaning though, as one seemed to have dirt encrusted into it. Lupin carefully and very slowly stepped up behind Ron, well aware that the dragon was watching him with a suspicious eye.

"They don't look life threatening."

"No" Ron agreed, staring at them fixedly. There was something so familiar about these cuts, he could sense something there that he hadn't noticed on his friend before he left. He looked into Forge's gleaming eyes and radiated as much calm as he could.

"Hey mate, I'm just gonna take a closer look okay? I'm not gonna hurt ya." He slowly moved his right hand forward, noting how Forge seemed agitated but made no move to stop him. His tail slid back and forth through the snow restlessly behind him but didn't lash out. Ron held his hand only an inch from the deepest wound, and frowned. There was an energy there, and it was dark and evil. "Son of a goblin." He muttered and pulled away.

"What is it?" Lupin asked quietly, trying to discern what it was Ron had figured out but not seeing anything that would warrant a curse. Ron backed away and moved to the bucket of water.

"I found his mother about eight months ago. She'd been attacked, and left to die. Stand back please." Lupin complied, moving further away as Ron moved with him, pointing to the bucket he left on the ground near the dragon. "Forge, fire." He ordered, and, after a moment of debate, flames were roaring around the metal bucket, quickly heating the water within to almost scalding. "Stop. That's perfect mate, thanks." The dragon seemed pleased by the complement and bounced his head a moment before turning back to his cuts. Ron dropped the faded red t-shirt into the water and let it sink, watching it as though it were the most interesting thing in the world.

"There was a…darkness around her, around the entire area. It was heavy and almost suffocating, I'd even call it evil, but it wasn't coming from her." He bent down and pulled the makeshift rag from the steaming water and stepping up to the dragon again. "Keep back and watch out for his tail, he's fast and he doesn't quite realize that it can kill us." Carefully Ron placed the rag over the largest wound and began sopping up the blood, pushing the creatures head away when it went to help with his tongue.

"You sense the same darkness from him?"

"Not from him, on him. Whatever attacked his mum just got him now."

"He's got blood on his talons. I'd say he gave better then he got." Ron grinned ferally at that thought.

"That's right. He's a tough little bugger." Ron's face was full of concentration as he wiped away the crusted blood and then stepped back, cleaning the cloth diligently and moving back to the cuts. He could sense Forge was becoming a bit agitated and worked quickly. He stopped his ministrations and looked at the wounds, each one about a foot long. He raised his hand and probed the outside of one, and wondered if he could help them heal a bit faster, like he helped himself. It was worth a shot. Gently he gathered energy from within himself and sent it to his fingertips as they gently moved about the torn fleshy edges. They tingled where the energy passed through, and he sensed Forge calm a bit, his tail slowing with its twitching. He went over all of them carefully, hoping he was charging the cells to regenerate, feeling that that was what he was doing but not really understanding how.

When he pulled away the gashes were still there, but they were no longer bleeding. He stepped back, his hand still tingling, and dropped the cloth into the bucket. He moved away and sat on a fallen log, pulling his jacket sleeves back down around his wrist and feeling Whip's excitement with Forge's return thrumming through his upper arm and shoulder. It was a moment later that Lupin joined him, his sharp eyes glancing over Ron's profile and then over the dragon. He sat two feet away, for which Ron was grateful, and pulled his winter robe abut him. It was dirty, Ron noted, and would need to be cleaned soon.

"There's more to this darkness that you sense. What is it?" Lupin asked. Ron frowned in thought, watching as Forge was eyeing his wounds carefully but making no attempt to lick them. A moment later he heavily flopped to the ground and curled his head around behind him, tucking it between the wings on his back and closing his eyes. He must have been exhausted to just fall asleep like that. Ron watched him worriedly for a moment before remembering that Lupin had asked him a question, and it would be rude not to answer.

"Charlie," Ron paused, missing his brother terribly but then forced the feelings to the back of his mind. "Charlie told me once that dragon's only attacked each other for territory, mates, or food. She didn't die from a fight over mates, seeing as she already had a pup. I don't think territory was an issue, because I remember him telling me that even those fights end up wounding and chasing away their opponents, but hardly ever result in death. And she was just left there, her body was mangled beyond any repair, her life was draining away…there was no purpose for it. It was an attack meant to kill painfully, but that was it. Dragons don't pointlessly attack, Hagrid taught us all that during the triwizard tournament, but this one was. I don't know what other creature around here would be capable of bringing down such a powerful animal." Ron clenched his fist and smacked his thigh in frustration, all his questions that he had purposely not thought about over all these months rising back up. He felt Lupin's eyes on him and looked over to meet the intelligent grey gaze.

"You raised Forge from a pup then, after you helped his mother to die." Ron looked away, feeling nauseous as the memories of her life passing through him into the earth emerged again. He had thrown himself into raising Forge to forget what he had done. He swallowed thickly and didn't reply. It was none of Lupin's business anyway, but it seemed the werewolf didn't want to let this go.

"It was the most decent thing you could do."

"I killed her." Ron snarled softly.

"You helped her die painlessly. Her child doesn't seem to hold it against you."

"I doubt he knows any better."

"Dragons are much more intelligent then we give them credit for. I thought you would have figured this out by now, seeing as you seem to have made a friend out of one. It's extremely rare, even when raised from captivity, that a dragon would ever allow such close contact with a person as you two have.

"He's bent in the head. Any normal dragon would have tried to eat me a long time ago." Lupin laughed at this and Ron grinned in return, though weakly. He gazed fondly at his dragon, pleased that he seemed to be resting easily in his place by the cliff wall.

"Still," Lupin conceded, "what you've managed here is amazing. Hagrid would be absolutely thrilled, and I have no doubt that Charlie would have been proud, not to mention the rest of your family."

"That's not the issue now." Ron changed the subject, not wanting to dream about how his family might react to such knowledge. "There's something out there that doesn't belong, something in the dragons world is out of place and is beginning to get out of control. I think Forge came back to warn me, maybe even to ask for help. I'll have a proper talk with him when he wakes up."

"With that whip around your arm?" Lupin injected, Ron looked at him and found himself under the professor's patented _you will tell me the truth_ gaze. To his dismay he found it still made him squirm a little, and he decided that he really ought to tell Lupin something about Whip, seeing as he had refrained all this time from asking. Ron knew how hard it was for Lupin to not ask about these things, to be left in the dark.

"Yes. I don't quite understand him, Whip I mean." He explained, coaxing the object down from his shoulder to wrap in its normal place about his hand, the thick red material quickly veining around his fingers and wrist. He held it up for Lupin to look at briefly, hoping he wasn't making a mistake in showing this man his hidden weapon. "I picked him up in an antique shop and he wouldn't let me go. Suffice to say, I'm fair nearly stuck with him." He glared at the object as it suddenly flared hot in a bite of temper at his comments. "Oi, I'm not mad about it ye git." He growled and was glad when the pain receded, leaving only the normal aggravating burn that the bangle around his wrist caused. Actually, looking at his wrist now he saw it was slightly more inflamed then normal, no doubt from trying to heal Forge's wounds. He pulled his sleeve back over and hid his wrist, no longer comfortable with it being exposed. Lupin was looking at him a bit queerly.

"It has a bit of a personality, doesn't like it when I insult him."

"I see." Lupin was still frowning though, and Ron had had enough of this conversation, suddenly feeling too exposed to this man who had been living with him the last month. Ron was beginning to feel too comfortable around him, and he was telling him too much. He stood abruptly.

"I asked Forge not to eat you, but he doesn't understand his own strength, at all. Steer as clear away from him as you can and there won't be a problem. When Howlite and Hronblend get back from wherever they went they can help. He has a soft spot for them, and they adore him."

"They might have been here now if you hadn't told them you were going to turn them into light bulbs."

"They deserved it, bloody little fleas." Lupin merely shrugged his shoulders and Ron turned, walking away. It didn't matter if Lupin was right and he shouldn't have insulted them. He had a temper, and they liked to ignite it. The werewolf had yet to learn that the little pixies enjoyed teasing him up the wall, they enjoyed being pains in the arse, and they certainly knew exactly how Ron would react. It was a balanced relationship, and Ron had absolutely no issues with how it was working out for them. In the end they all knew they cared about each other, and that was what really mattered. Besides, they were hardly ever truly insulted by his threats, and their disappearance was more likely a visit home taken at a moment to make Ron feel guilty. It didn't work

Just before Ron was to enter the forest he called over his shoulder. "I'll be back in a few hours, I'm just going to make sure Forge wasn't followed by whatever attacked 'im." He didn't wait for a reply, not really worried over how Lupin felt about this course of action, and slipped silently into the trees.

**TBC**

Yes yes. I know I'm a mean and cruel person not letting Ron know about Harry…but I need to have a level of tension and suspense that'll bring you all back to this story!

Harry Lvr. It would be an interesting scene to have the twins waltz into Drasgov (town with angry villagers). I don't think the town would survive an encounter like that! That was a great review! Good luck on your two exams!

Kamonkey, (and everyone else) there's a little more Forge for you ;)

Catc10, I think the total is going to be 32 chapters. It would have been more, but I wanted the last couple to be looong (well, maybe not that long but…). The story its'ef comes out to around 260 pages (I'm very proud of that ;).

Scribhneoir, you and Harry Lvr are both dead on with why I choose Lupin to be the first of Ron's old life to reappear. He's experienced as an 'outsider,' has a calming personality and knows how to approach tense situations. I love Lupin…as much as I love the twins and everyone else…but he's fantastic!

And to everyone! Thanks for the reviews and sorry about not mentioning the full moon in any real detail. You're just going to have to wait for it to pop up again!

Cheers!

**Next Update:** September, 6, 2005 (because it's a shorter chapter I'll post it sooner :)


	23. Chapter 23

**!Read the NOTE at the end of this chapter!**

**Chapter 23**

Lupin peered carefully through the door of their shelter to look outside, grinning as he realized what all the noise was about. Ron was back from his latest excursion through the woods and was playing with Forge; which was why the silence of the sunny, early January, afternoon had been suddenly broken by heavy footsteps and laughter. As far as Lupin was concerned it was music to his ears. He watched as Ron ran one way and then sharply, quickly, twisted around and headed in the other direction, causing the dragon to heave his not unsubstantial mass about to chase the red haired boy in the other direction. The dragon was fast, very fast, but somehow Ron managed to be faster. Watching him gracefully sprint across the clearing to disappear in the trees and reappear further down, throwing a snowball at the bright orange and brown mottled beast made him chuckle. Lupin knew, instinctively, that Ron was using the energy his power allowed him to channel, making him so graceful and smooth as he ran through the now pressed snow. There were patches where the grass could be seen due to Forge's heated breath.

It really was a sight to behold. If someone had told him five months ago that he would be in the presence of the youngest Weasley boy and watching him play with a fully grown, dangerous dragon as though they were best friends, he would have offered to test one of Neville Longbottom's potions. Quietly he closed the door and let his eyes readjust to the darkness inside until he could see as clearly as day, and he headed to the makeshift table and chair he had been perched at, mending his robe from where it had caught on a thick branch and torn. His robe was beginning to look like Weasley's brown coat, which currently lay on the cot across the small room. Lupin's eyes trailed from the cot to the unlit fire place and he sighed, wishing he could light it. Ron refused to let him unless it was absolutely necessary. He was always afraid someone would see the escaping smoke in the daylight, even if the wood was bone dry. Ron, as Lupin had discovered in his first week staying here, allowed himself the bare minimum of comfort. Every single allowance over the last month and a half had been for Lupin's sake.

He had been glad for them too, because as healthy as he was, sleeping in this cold climate day after day had taken some getting used to, and he had found the first month, despite using his wand to make things better for them, had been the hardest. Now was easier to adapt to the cold, and he had noticed that his prolonged exposure to this way of life had also changed his physique a bit; He was feeling stronger and more energetic. Though he still had one hell of a long way to go to match Ron's energy levels, and he knew that would never happen both because of their age difference and the fact that Ron was a chaneller.

Lupin paused to look at his handiwork, happy with how the stitches were turning out. He could have used a mending spell he supposed, but there wasn't much to do around here (except play with dragons, which he knew he wouldn't come out of alive) and fixing his garment by hand was appealing. He heard Ron laugh again, and he smiled to himself. He had heard Ron laugh before, but it was rare, and had only ever been induced by the fairies playing. Forge, who had stuck around longer then Ron had anticipated, had been good for him, and it had been easy for Lupin to see the affection the boy held for the creature. It was still quite unnerving to step outside and see the beast lounging about, but it was slowly becoming a part of the everyday.

In actuality it was Lupin who was still feeling like the odd one out. He was well aware that this was caused by Ron's discomfort around him. The boy still wouldn't come within two feet of him, wouldn't let Lupin close enough to touch, even accidentally. It was an ingrained fear that he could sense the boy trying to fight, but unable to overcome. Lupin had heard, of course, about Ron's time as a prisoner, and he knew he was seeing the typical reaction to such treatment. It made his blood boil to think of what Ron must have gone through, to turn someone who had always seemed to crave the tiniest bit of affection into someone who was now afraid of it.

It had never been a secret to anyone who knew Ron that he gained comfort from physical contact. Lupin had not been blind to see how much the entire Weasley family (with the exception of Percy) never refrained from hugs, pats on the back, handshakes or shoves. Molly was always finding a reason to clean her children's face or envelop them in a warm embrace. Arthur had always been extremely friendly and loving to his children. The twins were constantly play fighting and dragging their younger siblings (who usually went willingly) into tickle fights, pillow fights, wrestling matches and whatever else they could think of. When Bill and Charlie had been home they acted the same way, as a family of boys would. Ginny was a little less likely to join their fights, but she had never been one to shy away.

Ron had been no different from the rest of the family, and he extended this affection to Harry, who had used it to grow out of his shy shell (except when he and Ron had been at odds of course). Lupin could see how much Ron _needed_ the affection, how much he craved a hug for comfort or even a simple pat on the back, but Ron was refusing it. Lupin would even say, without hesitation, that Ron was scared of such affection at the moment. On top of that Lupin suspected Ron thought he was trying to rope him into a trap, have him captured and thrown into Azkaban. That wasn't the case, but Ron had an imaginative mind and he was no doubt questioning the oddness of their chance meeting. He had, thankfully, warmed up to him after a month and was talking to him more now, about little things. Lupin had never felt the need to be as delicate with his questions as he had these last six weeks. It was tiring and frustrating, but if there was anything this life had taught him it was patience, and it was slowly paying off.

Lupin finished his work and tossed the clothing over beside Ron's jacket, then standing he went to inspect the remaining cans of food to see what he could prepare for dinner. Well, there were green beans, beats, cocktail sausages and corned beef. Lupin had never been picky about his food, so eating out of cans wasn't difficult. They would, however, need more food soon. He pulled down three cans, knowing it would be enough to quench both their hungers but nothing more, and maybe even less for the redheaded young man. He was punishing himself, for what Lupin hadn't yet figured out, but the closest he could come to was for killing that Death Eater, and for running away when Fudge had hinted at a stint in Azkaban. Lupin slammed a can on the rough table in anger. He despised Cornelius Fudge with a passion he normally reserved for Voldemort and the full moon.

Not having anything more to do, but not wanting to go outside and interrupt Ron when he was actually relaxing for once, Lupin sat down on the cot, fingering the black leather bound book that Ron had allowed him to read. Doytil had been a sick wizard, lost in greed and power and not at all conscious about how he got there. The book hadn't revealed anything spectacular about Ron's gift; it was more of a documentary of how the sociopath had controlled others. What Lupin was learning about a chaneller's strength was coming from observing Ron, and from what Dumbledore had known and explained to everyone late that first evening after Ron's disappearance. Lupin had been slowly forming his own opinions on the energy skills.

The first thing that had come to his attention was that Ron hadn't needed a wand to apparate. The fact that he had been able to direct Lupin to his home simply by willing it had absolutely astonished him. He doubted Ron was even really aware of what an amazing accomplishment that was. However, it had been impossible to ignore how Ron had been completely sapped of strength after that feat, and with Lupin being present the boy had refused to lie down and sleep, or even rest and regain his strength. Ron had gone for three days without closing his eyes, drawing on the energies of the forest to keep him standing. When he looked like death warmed over he had finally conceded to rest when Lupin had left the shelter and sat outside in the snow for four and a half hours. It hadn't rejuvenated Ron completely, but it had given him back his edge.

Harry had insisted that Ron had been getting very little sleep in his last months at Hogwarts, but he had been functioning just fine. Lupin had no trouble accepting this fact, seeing as Ron slept as few hours as humanely possible. However, he was becoming aware that, when Ron was feeling more comfortable around him than usual, he could sleep almost a solid four hours. Ron hadn't said anything about this, but Lupin could sense that he was confused by his bodies suddenly increased demand for rest. Lupin felt it had something to do with Ron finally accepting his abilities, learning to wield them and using them more in his every day life, if leaping from tree top to tree top was any indication. Lupin was going to keep an eye on his sleeping patterns though, just in case.

He was startled out of his thoughts as the door swung open and Ron trudged in, his gaze instantly searching and finding Lupin. Noting the werewolf's position he took to the log by the table, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. He watched Lupin a moment before turning his eyes away, as though guilty about something. His hair was falling out of control again.

"Finished frolicking with the dragon?" Lupin stated, grinning to convey his amusement.

"He was getting close to cutting me in thirds with his tail. I figured it was time to call it quits." Ron looked at the cans, then looked behind him at the shelf and frowned. "We'll need more food soon." He stated, unknowingly mimicking Remus' earlier thoughts. Then he looked back at Lupin, looking like he had a question but was afraid to ask it.

"I suppose a trip to the market would be in order." Lupin agreed.

"I'll go this afternoon." Ron decided, and then bit his lip in uncertainty. "Unless you want to go, that is." Ah, so he was trying to see if Lupin was getting ready to spring his trap yet, he was trying to see if he would need to pack up and find another home.

"No, there's no reason for me to go anywhere." This seemed to aggravate Ron and he leaned forward, impatiently pushing his bangs out of his eyes.

"Come off it Lupin. How long are you planning to stick around here? How long are you going to watch me until you decide I'm not a risk?"

"I'm not here for that reason and you know it. Stop being so suspicious! If I had wanted to alert anyone about your presence I would have done so by now."

"And how long until everyone back at Hogwarts decides that your excuse for not returning to teach is utter bullocks and they come looking for you?" Lupin rubbed his brow, remembering how nervous Ron had been about fetching him an owl to send to the Headmaster, telling him that he was fine but he would not be returning to school. He had read the note over three times to make sure there was no hidden message, and even then he seemed nervous about it somehow stating that Lupin had found him and knew where he was.

"Dumbledore is a wise man Ron, he knows I don't want to be disturbed and will therefore not call for me." This was true. Dumbledore wouldn't look for Lupin since he requested not to be found, and because Lupin had managed to slip their code word, stating that he was not being coerced, into the note Albus knew the request was genuine. He might be curious as to why Lupin disappeared so abruptly, but he was a patient wizard who knew the answers would arrive when the time was right.

"I want to believe you Remus, I really do." Ron's quiet response was heard only because of his sharp ears and he leaned back sadly, rubbing his eyes a moment and wishing, not for the first time, that Ron had just been secure enough to tell his friends his secret. He wished that Ron had been stronger then he had when he had hidden his disposition from James and Sirius. Lupin had been lucky though, because his teachers had known and accepted him. Ron had feared everyone, and now he had reason to back up that fear. Lupin wanted to maim Fudge, and resurrect McTagert so he could kill him again. However, Ron's entire family had already claimed that pleasure if the art of necromancy was ever to be risked.

Ron stood suddenly and moved to his pile of things, digging through until he found a pouch of local money. He moved to Lupin and nimbly picked up his jacket, putting it on in one swift motion and pocketing his coin.

"I'm going for the food. Any requests?"

"No, thank you." Ron nodded, grabbed his worn rucksack and headed out the door. A moment later Lupin sensed that he was gone and he sagged back on the cot, waiting in silence for his friends return.

0000000

January had passed and February offered the same bitter winds and snows that encompassed the country. Lupin went outside as much as possible, but sometimes the cold drove him back in quicker then he would like. Ron, he noticed, seemed a lot more tolerant of the chill, but he also tended to push himself to his absolute limit. He was much to lean. Right now was no doubt one of those times and Lupin sat tensely, waiting for the red head to come home. He felt like a nervous parent, not knowing where their child was but knowing they were well past their curfew. The only problem was that Ron had no curfew, he was completely dependent unto himself, and he was probably more capable then anyone to take care of himself. He had proved this time and again over the last year and a half, probably more times than Lupin even suspected. The professor had yet to see any seriously dangerous creatures in the forest, but he had a high suspicion that they stayed away simply because they sensed that Ron wasn't the sort to clash with.

So he sat and waited, trying to focus on the words of a muggle novel Ron had brought him (along with a pile of others) on his last shopping expedition. He wasn't getting very far however, as he kept reading the same line over and over and eventually he just turned the page to give the illusion he was accomplishing his task. It was then that he shot to his feet, hearing the sudden haggard breath just before the door burst open and Ron stumbled in, clearly having trouble staying on his feet. Remus moved quickly to try and catch him before he fell, but somehow Ron sensed his approach.

"Don't! Don't touch me!" He ordered and Lupin pulled back just in time, glaring as the stubborn red head crashed to his knees and clutched his side. His face was cherry red from the cold and, judging by his heavy breathing, exertion. Instead Lupin stepped quietly around him and gently shut the patched door, filling the room with a sudden stillness that was absent without the wind pouring in. Lupin stood back and raked his eyes over the boy who seemed perfectly content to sit right where he was. He didn't see any blood and he couldn't smell any blood. Instead he inhaled the aroma of anger, a bit of panic, and the crisp sharpness of icy water. This worried him greatly.

"Ron, what happened? Are you hurt?" Just because he couldn't smell blood, didn't mean Ron couldn't have broken limbs or other internal injuries. His hands flexed anxiously at his side, itching to reach out and help the man despite his demand to not be touched. The moment Remus discovered Ron was truly injured was the moment that rule was going right out the door. As it was Ron seemed to be catching his breath, though his face was still bright red. Lupin could see his hands were shaking, even through the gloves. His garments were sopping wet.

"I'm fine." Ron stuttered through chattering teeth and started to make an effort of unclenching his body, pulling his arms away from his side. He began to numbly tug at his gloves, working them off finger by finger before tossing them in the general direction of the fire. They made a wet squelching sound as they landed. The hat and scarf weren't far behind.

"You don't look fine." Lupin demanded, moving in front of him again and glaring down.

"I'm a bit c-cold at the m-m-moment. I'll t-tell ye what happened l-later." He started trying to shirk his brown jacket but was having a hard time of it. Knowing that Ron wouldn't let him help Lupin went and poured some water into a mug and pulled his wand, heating it instantly. Then he cast a charm to heat the room again, noting that, perhaps for the first time, Ron wasn't watching him while he held the magical tool. He approached Ron with the mug and saw that the boy had managed to shrug out of both his jacket and his sopping sweater and was trying for his long, water logged and well worn boots. He pulled them off along with his holey socks and then seemed at a loss as to what to do next. He never undressed more then this in front of Lupin.

"Here" Lupin handed him the mug, saw Ron hesitate before reaching out and taking it, carefully avoiding meeting Remus' fingers with his own. Lupin ignored the action and looked Ron over, noting that his pants and faded green t-shirt were just as wet as his outer clothes had been. He must have fallen in a lake, and Lupin frowned, because he couldn't think of where there might be a body of unfrozen water in this climate. Ron coughed harshly and then took a gulp of the liquid, obviously grateful for its warmth.

"I can dry you clothes with my wand, if you'll allow it." He suggested softly, Ron's sharp blue eyes jumping to meet his in apprehension, his lips tinged slightly blue with the cold. "It's that or you get out of those right now, because you are going to get pneumonia otherwise and I won't allow it."

"Just a drying spell, nothing else." Ron agreed slowly, and then sat stiffer as Lupin slowly pulled his wand around and pointed it at him.

"_Desiccatem" _he called softly, not able to ignore the instinctive flinch Ron gave at having a wand pointed at him and a spell muttered, a moment later the boy breathed a sigh of relief as his t-shirt unstuck from his torso and his favourite corduroy pants loosened enough to move about comfortably again. Remus directed the same spell to the wet pile of clothes and then placed a heating spell on the cots blankets.

"Get into the bed and warm up properly." He ordered and Ron, surprisingly, pulled himself to his feet and stumbled the few feet onto the bed, wrapping the blankets securely around his body and leaning against the wall, closing his eyes. Exhaustion was evident. "What happened?" Lupin asked, regretting that he had to disturb Ron but needing to know. His own panicked heart was starting to slow down again and he reheated the mug placing it once again in Ron's still shaking fingers. He went and sat on the log stool, waiting for an answer.

"A bloody water fall is what happened." Ron growled, suddenly perking up as his apparent anger gave him energy. Lupin wasn't surprised to note that he felt absolutely no drain on his own energy as Ron recovered. Ron had yet to accidentally or otherwise steal energy from him, and he was glad that Ron had found such control over his body.

"A waterfall? There are none within a days walk from here." Lupin frowned. "How far did you go?"

"I went deeper into the mountains, right into the centre of dragon territory. I honestly didn't think there would be anything to find, but I was wrong." He muttered darkly, and it was unnerving how his eyes expressed the intensity of his anger.

"I take it the waterfall took you by surprise." Lupin said, wondering if it was possible for Ron, who was so deft on his feet, to actually fall into the rushing waters. It wasn't too farfetched a notion though, seeing as the young man had displayed an amazing ability for clumsiness when an unaware moment took him.

"No, the bloody git who knocked me into it did." He took a deep drink from the cup, and looked over at Lupin. "I think I'm closer to figuring what's wrong with the dragons."

"Perhaps you could start from the beginning."

"I apparrated to the mountains this afternoon, hoping I could find the area where Forge was attacked. I didn't see anything that looked familiar, but there were traces of dragons all around." He sighed and settled down a bit more, thinking over his day and slowly putting it to words. Lupin was thankful to notice that his stunning shade of red was turning more into a light blush on his face and his hands were beginning to still. "I found the waterfall by default, and followed it a good few kilometres before I came upon a man sitting on a rock, staring right at me." He shuddered a bit at this and Lupin frowned, leaning forward a bit.

"Did you recognize him?"

"No, never seen him before. He was dressed in heavy brown robes, and he was as dirty as sin, I swear he hadn't had a bath in a year. I thought maybe he was lost or something, but the closer I got I felt…he was dark, just like when Forge and his mum had been attacked. He was evil, rotten to the core. Bloody horrible he is." Ron glanced over at the door where the two fairies suddenly squeezed through and flew over to him, sensing that all was not well and therefore refraining from their usual antics. They burrowed into his hair and he smiled a bit, comforted by their presence. The light they cast off surrounded Ron's fiery locks, making him look like he was glowing himself, as though he had a halo surrounding him. It was quite beautiful, but the haunted look in Ron's clouded eyes gave it more of a tragic air. Lupin frowned.

"What happened? Did he speak to you?"

"Yeah, though I swear he hadn't used his voice in a century, it was as rusty as the door to Filch's office. He asked me my name, I told him to sod off. He didn't like that, got all self righteous and huffy. I asked him who he was and he said he was the Dragon Lord. Bloody loon, as if the dragons could have a human master, utter madness it is, and you could see it in his eyes too. He's not all there." Ron tapped his head to emphasize his point, his eyes holding a far off look as though he were back at the waterfall and not sitting, warm, in his home.

"The Dragon Lord." Lupin echoed, trying to think why that sounded familiar to him but drawing blanks.

"Ridiculous title if you ask me, he wasn't too impressed with that comment either." Lupin had to laugh at this, knowing full well how smart mouthed Ron could be when he was feeling irritated or scared; he lost his ability to hold a civil conversation.

"Is that what had him knock you into the water?"

"No. He wanted to know how I got up there, why the dragons hadn't found me yet. I have no clue and told him as much." Ron pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

"There's something wrong with him, he's a strong wizard Lupin, you can feel the power around him and it is way too close to the evil that Voldemort carried. Much too similar to Voldemort." His voice had dropped to a whisper and his eyes turned more haunted as he was no doubt remembering the final battle that he had helped Harry win. A moment later he blinked back to the present and looked angry with himself for letting his memories get the better of him. "He told me to stay away. I told him to mind his own business and he pulled his wand and knocked me into the water before I even realized he had one. Quick as a snake, it was the fastest draw I've ever seen."

"That was it? He just knocked you into the water?"

"What do you mean that was it? I was falling over the edge of the falls when I finally focused enough to apparrate back here, it still took more energy then it should have, I think he hit me with some kind of curse as well because I usually don't feel this tired after such a short jump."

"You did with me."

"I was practically carrying two loads there, that would tire anyone." His eyes drooped closed of their own accord and Ron snapped them back open, trying to stay awake in Lupin's presence.

"Get some rest Ron, I'll stay over here." Ron didn't seem comfortable with this idea, but sleep was evidently winning over his need to protect himself. He lay down and huddled his large frame under the blankets and was asleep in seconds. It was then that Horns and Howly dug their way out of his hair and flew over to Lupin, standing on the table and looking up at him, their eyes glowing gold and red. He stared at their smiling, accepting faces and then snorted in sudden amazement. Eyes glowing red and gold! These two were a pair of firefairies and he hadn't realized it until now! No wonder they got along so well with the dragon. They had, no doubt, lulled Ron to sleep so he would rest and they were looking quite pleased with themselves as Horns grabbed Howly around the waist and swung her into the air. They flew up to Lupin and she swooped in to peck him on the cheek, startling a chuckle from him before they both darted back to their sleeping charge and once again burrowed into his brilliant mane.

Lupin leaned against the wooden wall, always impressed with how well it was built, and watched as Ron slept peacefully for the first time under Lupin's eye. Yet despite the peace the room was swathed in he frowned, thinking over Ron's description of his attack. Dragon Lord? The title was nagging at him but he couldn't place it. That didn't matter so much though; he was more concerned with the severity of this wizard's actions. Obviously he had felt threatened by Ron, or he would have likely just left him to wander rather then making an appearance and initiating a question and answer session. The fact that he had tried to drown Ron without provocation made him a serious threat.

Lupin would talk to Ron when he woke up and gage his reaction on warning the wizarding world, but this course of action also made him nervous. Ron had actually allowed him to point his wand at him, and Lupin was well aware of how difficult that must have been for the young man. They were making progress, and he was afraid that this new situation could undo all their hard work.

000000

Ron sat quietly on his favourite rock, which rested a few feet from the door to his home, and watched as Lupin carefully attached a bit of parchment to the owls outstretched leg. Ron could see that the professor's cold fingers were fumbling with the tiny string that was usually so easy to tie on a messenger, but he made no effort to help him. Ron had already gone to the nearest wizarding town and ordered an owl sent to Lupin in the first place, and seeing as he'd done it reluctantly Lupin could very well attach his own damned note. Ron almost smiled at his petulant behaviour, for some reason the idea that he could still act like a child delighted him. For a long while he had thought himself incapable of feeling petty anger, he had thought he'd been burnt beyond that. It looks like time could bring back all of ones bad habits.

"Well, that's done. Hopefully Dumbledore will have more of an idea about who this wizard is." Lupin came and sat down on the rock right beside him and Ron looked over briefly, grunting half heartedly in response. He wasn't happy that Lupin had sent the note, especially to someone as smart as Dumbledore. The Headmaster would no doubt be able to determine where Lupin was, and he would probably be able to eventually figure out that Ron was here as well. Dumbledore, unlike Lupin, most likely realized that Ron was responsible for Harry's…for Harry being gone. Ron blinked back the sudden tears that jumped to the front of his eyes and looked away from Lupin, God forbid he should see him about to cry. _Get a grip! Yer not a bloody three year old!_ He scolded himself harshly. It didn't matter what Dumbledore thought; he wasn't here right now. Besides, Ron was only deserving of the man's anger, the fact that Lupin was unaware of the truth surrounding Harry's death was luck and torture on Ron's part. He had begun to trust Lupin; he figured the man really believed what he was saying about Ron's family wanting him home. As selfish as it might be he spent too many of his waking hours imagining that that was true. Ron had grown comfortable with Lupin's presence. He would miss him if the man suddenly realized how foul Ron truly was.

"You okay Ron?" Lupin's calm, warm voice cut into his negative thoughts and he blinked. He had almost forgotten where he was for a moment.

"Fine." He replied, looking out to the tree line where he could just see the glowing dots of Horns and Howly as they played in the branches. If only his life could have been as simple.

"You're not getting sick are you? That was a nasty dunk in the water you took yesterday.

"I heal faster then I used to."

"I know, Doytil's book mentioned something along the lines of being able to increase cell regeneration with extra energy." Figures Lupin would have remembered that one line out of all the pointless blithering that evil wizard had written.

"Then you should be able to see that I'm not sick." Ron snapped back, regretting his harsh tone instantly but refusing to apologise. There were a few moments of silence as the two of them enjoyed the winter sun on one of the few days where there was no wind. Then Lupin felt he had to interrupt the peace of the afternoon.

"I noticed that Forge's wounds healed faster then was normal."

"You know how dragons heal?"

"Not much, but I do think any animal with wounds like those would take at least a week before they begin to close properly. After only a week your dragon was absolutely fine."

"I think it's something in his saliva." The lie slipped easily off his tongue and he didn't look over at the werewolf to ascertain his mood. He didn't need to, because whether or not Lupin believed him the man was too polite to call him on it. He was too afraid he'd send Ron storming off into the trees, which, with Ron's temper, was always a real possibility. Ron sighed and rubbed his wrist.

"Perhaps you should have him lick your wrist then."

"What?" Ron looked over in surprise, not following the sudden change in conversation.

"Forge. If his saliva has healing capabilities you should have him lick your wrist. Perhaps it will take down the swelling." Ron instantly stopped rubbing said wrist and pulled his jacket sleeve down to hide it from sight.

"He'd more likely eat my arm then give it a lick. And I'm rather fond of it so I'd rather not try."

"I suppose you're right." Lupin conceded and Ron nodded in agreement, looking down at Whip as the red handle shifted its webbed pattern around Ron's fingers and hand. "So when did you hurt your wrist? I've noticed it's been bothering you for some time now." Perceptive little bugger wasn't he? Well, Ron supposed it didn't hurt to tell him. In truth the longer they spent together the more Ron wanted to talk to the quiet man; it was certainly more entertaining then sitting on a rock in silence.

"It's been bothering me for over a year." He muttered.

"Anything to do with that bracelet you wear?"

"I suppose."

"Why don't you take it off then?"

"I can't."

"I see."

"Good, then we can get off that topic." Ron pulled at his jacket sleeve again and frowned as his wrist flared in pain. Stupid bloody McTagert and his stupid bangles! Over the last few months Ron had been finding it more and more difficult to ignore the thing as his wrist remained slightly swollen and ached increasingly. At first it had only happened when he channelled a great amount of energy, like when he had aided Forge's mum. Now the pain was getting worse, and every time he used his chanelling abilities, even for something as mundane as summoning a small stick, it felt as though he had broken his wrist. He had come to the conclusion that it wasn't meant to be on him for such a long period of time, and its properties were finally beginning to have a negative effect beyond blocking his chanelling abilities. He only hoped it wasn't anything permanent, and that if he didn't use his chanelling abilities for a while then maybe it would go away.

"Did anything stand out about this Dragon Lord character? Anything that might give away who he is?" Ron just managed to suppress the shiver of unease that ran up his spine at the mentioning of his attackers title.

"You mean other then him trying to kill random innocent people?" This was not the topic he had wanted to switch to. Lupin had been fairly stuck on it since Ron had awoken in the early hours that morning, asking him again and again for a description, trying to see if there was anything that Ron was leaving out. Of course there was, but Ron wasn't about to share it with Lupin. When Lupin didn't respond to Ron's callus remark Ron slid off his rock and walked inside the shelter, waiting a few moments as his eyes adjusted to the darkness within before heading over to his corner of blankets and sitting down.

The man he had met on the rock…Ron hadn't been joking when he had said the wizard wasn't completely sane. Far from it in fact, and there was no denying it as his empty black eyes had stared at Ron, making him feel like he was about to get sucked into a black hole and lost forever. This time Ron didn't suppress the shudder that ran through his body at the memory, and he pulled his blankets about him. He had left out a few important details when relaying the story to Lupin, but he didn't think the man needed to worry about them at this point.

The darkness that had surrounded Forge's wound had been ten times stronger around this wizard as he had sat on the rock, waiting. He had known Ron would be coming; he hadn't been surprised at all by his sudden appearance. He had whispered darkness into the air around them, inviting Ron to join him, to join his purpose. Ron had felt the pull, felt an urge to walk over and stand beside him as he had spoken his soft, seductive offerings. Ron had stared into the depths of those black eyes, and in their bottom he had glimpsed hell. It was a soulless place, and Ron had said so. The moment he had refused the dark wizard he had felt as though an invisible rope had reached out and ensnared his body. It had been made of energy and dark magic that had been filled with rage at his denial. It had driven Ron to his knees, and it had driven him to panic as it had slowly started to reel in his spirit. The wizard had been attempting to bind Ron to him, in servitude. He had wanted Ron's strength. _Not again_ he thought bitterly before the fear kicked in.

In his panic, his horror, and his out right refusal to succumb to such an evil act Ron had lashed out violently with a repelling force that had sent the shocked wizard tumbling from his perch. The bond had been broken, but only for a moment, and Ron had twisted around and thrown himself into the raging waters of the river that had been behind him. The icy water had completely broken the connection and just as he had tumbled over the edge and apparated back to the shelter he had felt the rage of the wizard echo in his head. When he had made it inside he didn't know if he was shaking more from the absolute shock of the cold water, or the attack. There was one thing he had been sure of though, and that was that he had a problem. He needed to figure out what this wizard was doing, and he needed to stop him.

**TBC**

Kamonkey, being evil is totally underrated! Oh the fun to be had! (though my friends do generally feel sorry for the characters I become fond of)

Scribhneoir, I really hope Ron stays in character enough for you!

Catc10, you are completely correct about the title of this story. That's it, I'm changing it again before it has been completely uploaded. So without further ado:

**NOTE:** This stories title will be changed to "WAYWARD SON" when chapter 25 is uploaded. Sorry (again) for any confusion this may cause.

**Next Update**: September 8, 2005.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

Minerva McGonagall sat calmly in the plush, velvet covered high back chair and watched as Dumbledore conjured up two more beside her and moved to his own seat, behind his magnificently cluttered desk. Introductions to the visitor had already been made when he had arrived on the doorsteps of Hogwarts not fifteen minutes before so she felt no need to rise and greet him as he sat. Nor did she feel a need to rise and greet Severus Snape as he scowled and slouched into his own, green covered, seat on the opposite side of their guest. It was not that she intended to be rude; it was more that she wanted to start this impromptu meeting without the delay that pleasantries would take. She was glad to see that their guest felt the same way.

"Now Dumbledore, perhaps you could explain to me why it is that I received an urgent owl asking to speak with me immediately? Could this conversation not have taken place via fire talk?" Dennis Tamer sat tall in his seat, his mop of chestnut hair surprisingly controlled considering how long it was. She couldn't help wondering if he had once been a friend of Lockhart's, seeing as their grooming habits appeared similar. It was an uncharitable thought and she immediately turned to face Dumbledore, who had a twinkle in his eye that she suspected meant that he knew what she had been thinking. She tilted her head slightly and looked over her spectacles, waiting for the Headmaster to speak. Tamer was not the only one in this room that did not know why this meeting had been called.

"I'm sure fire talk would have been just fine, though I didn't want our conversation to risk being intercepted. Lemon drop?" The aged wizard produced a plate out of no where and Tamer took one without thinking.

"What is this urgent issue then? A wild batch of Swiss Feathertail eggs is due to hatch any time now and I would like to be there."

"Of course, of course. I don't wish to keep you from your duties with the dragons." Dumbledore looked briefly at Snape, who glared back with disinterest. "I received an important message this morning from a colleague who believes that we may have an issue with the dragons."

"What sort of issue?" Tamer leaned forward and McGonagall was very aware of how his posture switched from boastful to defensive.

"Well, that is in fact the question isn't it? He's been taking some time to himself and has been spending a lot of it in Romania, the Carpathian Mountains to be precise. It seems there have been a few instances of dragons attacking other dragons without provocation."

"It doesn't sound as though your colleague is very informed when it comes to dragon mannerisms. They don't attack each other without provocation. He most likely misinterpreted the situation."

"There is little doubt in my mind that he would raise such an issue without being positive of his findings." Dumbledore rebuffed in that kindly way of his.

"When was the last time you had a team in the Carpathian Mountains Mr. Tamer?" McGonagall asked, making sure her tone was a perfect blend of interest, politeness, and a smidgen of criticism. He reacted as she had hoped, sitting straighter and becoming slightly defensive while, at the same time, happy to tell them anything that would educate them of his position.

"Well, I believe it was…six or seven years ago? I'd have to check the records of course; the Carpathian Mountains aren't very high on our list of hotspots. The dragons there, while mixed, tend to remain in their territory and don't branch out to general population much, if at all."

"Ignoring a population of dangerous creatures for several years is not something that strikes me as competent. Tell me, are you aware of the concept of change? Or do you simply think that since the animals have not acted up before that they shall remain stagnant forever?" McGonagall resisted the urge to roll her eyes as Snape, a man that she both disliked and respected, introduced himself with his normal flare for diplomacy. Tamer bristled with indignation and looked briefly to Dumbledore before turning on the potions professor.

"I'm sorry, I don't think we've met Professor?"

"Snape." The former Death Eaters dark brown eyes stared at him assessing, waiting for his undoubted rebuke.

"Well, Professor," Tamer spoke the title as an insult. "I'm sure you're aware of the concept of funding, which is needed in order for studies of dragon populations to take place."

"And I suppose you're lacking in that area."

"Well, for the most part." Tamer turned away from the Slytherin's glare and looked at Dumbledore, hoping for understanding. "The war with You-Know-Who stressed our resources over the last few years and we are, understandably, a bit behind in our population surveys."

"Understandably. Voldemort had a great affect on our society. Though I'm sure that, now he has been gone for two years, sending someone out to the mountains to check on my colleagues' suspicions would be a reasonable action to take."

"Of course. Those mountains were on schedule for June, but I see no reason why we can't have an expedition head up earlier."

"Perhaps more than one team should go, seeing as there is the possibility of suspicious behaviour on the creatures' behalf." She smiled tightly, letting him know that it wasn't really a suggestion.

"Of course. Now, if you will all excuse me, I have a batch of hatchlings waiting to come out." He stood with a flare and, completely ignoring Snape, nodded to the two of them.

"Of course, thank you for taking our concerns seriously Mr. Tamer. If you wish you can floo back to your office from here." Dumbledore gestured towards his massive fireplace and the Manager of the Ministry's Magical Creatures, Dragon Division disappeared in a puff of ash.

"Well, that certainly was a waste of my time." Snape sat straighter now that their guest had left and looked at Dumbledore. "Perhaps you would care to enlighten us about your concerns." He sneered, though his voice held its usual lack of vehemence when speaking with the Headmaster.

"Of course Severus. I received a message from Remus Lupin this morning. He didn't go into grave detail of how he knew something was wrong in the Romanian mountains, but his concern was valid. He spoke of a wizard who seems to believe that he can control dragons. He said he goes by the name of Dragon Lord." Severus snorted in derision but McGonagall frowned as the title bounced around in her mind.

"Dragon Lord? Why is that title familiar to me Albus?"

"Because we had a student once who was often heard claiming that he would control the dragons." He looked at her, waiting for her memory to kick in and she frowned. It was difficult to forget that boy, he had disappeared without a trace after graduating from Hogwarts. Not even his parents had known where he went.

"Richard Yorkshire." She announced, nodding her head as she thought back to the burly teen who had always boasted that he would one day have reign over the dragons. Nobody had given any real attention to his boastings, thinking it to be bravado and nothing more. "You think he's this wizard that Remus mentioned?"

"I believe that he had a great lust for dominating the creatures, and that he was driven enough to disappear from the wizarding world to accomplish such a task."

"In other words yes, you think it's possible. That's all good and great but I am still scratching my head as to why I am here." Snape interjected, looking put out by not having any knowledge of this Yorkshire person.

"Richard Yorkshire had been a close associate of Tom Riddle's. I do not know if he remained in contact with him throughout his first campaign, or if he was ever a Death Eater. I wanted you to be aware of his possible return and to ask you to keep an eye open for any possible Death Eater activities." Snape nodded and stood, leaving the large office with his robe flaring dramatically behind him. They all knew that Snape, having worked against the Death Eaters in rounding them up after the battle, had no more power within the few remaining circles. This did not, however, negate his knowledge on the workings of their groups or their minds. He would be on the lookout for any suspicious activities and he would let them know. McGonagall looked over at Albus as he leaned back in his chair.

"You're worried that this might be another uprising?"

"No. But I do fear that this Dragon Lord is a very real threat. It is extremely suspicious that nobody has been aware of his presence until now."

"How did Remus happen upon this knowledge then? Romania doesn't strike me as a country he would spend too much time in."

"Indeed, but it would appear that something there has caught his eye." Finding a new Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher hadn't been too difficult, though the substitute lacked the geniality that Remus bestowed upon his students. What had surprised her, though she never said, was that Dumbledore had so easily allowed for their professor's sudden absence. He had been gone a long while.

"Do you know what he found up their Albus?"

"I do not, though I have my suspicions."

"I'm assuming, with your worries over this new threat that you'll want to cancel the summit?"

"No, no, not at all. I see no reason why this should interfere with Hogwarts at all. It is an outside issue, but I do think it needs to be looked into."

"Of course. Is there anything else?"

"Not at the moment Minerva, although if you happen to remember anything that may be of use about Richard, please let me know." She nodded and stood gracefully, heading out of the interesting office and to her next class. In the halls the children who had no classes lazed about, some nodding at her in greeting as she passed by. She spared them a moments nod and small smile, seeing no reason to ignore them, before walking into her silent transfiguration classroom. The heels of her practical dress shoes clicked loudly as she past the students desks and sat behind her own. It was fifteen minutes later when the first of her students began trickling through her doors and she had yet to even search for her lesson plan. Shaking herself out of her memories, banishing the images of the children she had taught so many years before as they had laughed and teased the Ravenclaw boy, she turned to her current task. She would dwell on Richard Yorkshire later, just as she would no doubt begin to dwell on all the other students who had been pointlessly tormented by their class mates. She loved the students of this school, but at times they could be so cruel without realizing the effects their actions might take.

0000000

Ron watched Lupin carefully as the quiet man sat and drank his tea, reading a book and looking quite content. The energy in the room, however, was different from the professor's air of tranquility, and as Ron watched him he noticed how his hand clutched at the chipped mug, painting his knuckles a stressed white. He took another sip of tea and Ron found his eyes lingering on the mug, imagining what it might be like to taste a liquid that was not just water.

The last food run Ron had made (he had almost injured his back carrying all the food he had purchased back) he had made sure to buy some tea for his guest. He may have grown up in a large family, but his mother had taught them all good manners along the way, and making sure his guest was comfortable was one of those lessons. Ron wasn't doing all that much to ease Lupin's time there, but he had decided that the man could at least enjoy a customary cup of tea. Ron, however, wouldn't allow himself to relish in the drink. He had not indulged in much of anything since he began hiding in these mountains, and he figured that that was how prison might be: lacking in small comforts.

The tea, however, was not the issue this evening and Ron reluctantly looked away from the mug and Lupin's white knuckles. The issue tonight was that it was the full moon. Ron's stomach had been in knots the past two days as it had approached, even though he no longer had anything to fear from it. Frustrated he stood and walked quietly to the door, opening it slightly to look out at the clearing and the trees beyond. The sky had just fallen dark, it wouldn't be long now before Lupin's transformation, and Ron dreaded its approach. He had seen Lupin turn before, back at Hogwarts, and it had been horrible then as well, but at that time Ron hadn't had to sit in one place and wait for morning to arrive as a mindless beast pulled at his restraints and howled in rage.

Lupin had warned him the first time around that he lost all semblance of humanity when he went without wolfsbane, and at the moment Ron was wondering why the man was going to put himself through it again when he could simply go back to Hogwarts and have Snape brew him a batch. Ron was far from blind and he saw how much it bothered Lupin to lose his control. He hated how the man was imprisoned by the wolf, how he had no control, despite his best efforts, over the beast; how he was indebted to others to make potions for him that would allow him to remain sane. Ron really hated Lupin's entire situation, he always had, but now it bothered him more then before. Now he understood what the man was truly going through.

"Pavlov's dog." The professor muttered and Ron cocked his head in question, not turning away from the door.

"What?"

"I was just comparing us to an experiment a muggle performed years ago, involving a dog."

"Well, I suppose I can recognize your possible comparison with a dog, but I'm not sure what else to think of it." Lupin chuckled lightly and Ron stood a bit taller, pleased that he had somehow made Lupin laugh even though he had no idea why.

"The experiment involved training the dog to react to outside stimuli without thought. Every night Pavlov would feed his dog and notice that the beast would drool upon the sight of food, so he began ringing a bell every time he fed the animal. The dog learned that when a bell rang it meant he was going to be fed, and he would therefore begin drooling even if no food appeared. Action and reaction."

"So you're comparing us to a drooling dog?"

"I'm comparing us to its training, yes. I've spent years anticipating the moon, I've learned to fear it like no other, and simply thinking of its approach has my body wound tighter then a spool of rope and my stomach in knots. You don't react much better then I." Ron looked back out at the sky, not wanting to continue the conversation. It took him several moments to realize that he had begun rubbing his sternum, right over the scar that Giles had given him and he quickly dropped his hand to grip the side of the door. His scars ached, they always did when the moon was out, even the ones that left no visible mark on his skin. Behind him he heard Lupin shuffling about, and then the heavy chains Ron had found (on Lupin's demand) were rattling into existence. He whirled around and stared at the man in sudden panic as he heard the chains sliding along the hard rock floor. For a moment he thought he would pass out simply from the fear of the sound, his breathing hitched in his chest and he saw stars and heard laughter echoing in his head before the panic attack subsided. Lupin had paused halfway across the room and was watching Ron carefully. Ron felt his face flush in response and was irritated that, with his animalistic eyesight, Lupin could no doubt see it.

"Are you okay Ron?"

"Fine." He snapped and moved over to the table, sitting down and poking at Howlite as she slept curled up in a t-shirt he had let the fairies keep a long time ago. She reached out and slapped at his finger before rolling away from him. He stretched his finger out again but stopped just before he could annoy her some more and pulled back. It would do no good irritating her tonight, because then she might leave and he wasn't sure he wanted to be alone to witness Lupin as he hissed and snarled in the corner of the room, wrenching at the chains that he would magically secure to the wall for the evening. Ron ignored all the sound coming from behind him with a stiff back, and only turned around when Lupin called his name softly and held out his wand for Ron to take. He had already secured himself to the wall.

Ron walked over to him and gingerly took the wand, placing it hurriedly beside the resting fairy, who he suspected was wide awake and simply trying to give them an air of privacy. He turned back and watched as Lupin lowered himself to the ground and leaned against the wall, covered only in a really old pair of black pants. His pale flesh goosebumped all over and Ron glared at him.

"You could at least wrap yourself in a blanket."

"Then you'd loose a perfectly good blanket. I'm fine." Lupin insisted, but refused to look up and meet Ron's gaze. It made Ron angry that Lupin was so embarrassed about this entire situation, it wasn't his fault that a werewolf had attacked him as a child! Without thinking Ron instinctivly crossed the small space again and sat down directly in front of the man, only a foot away. Lupin looked up, no doubt startled by his sudden appearance and closeness, and the fear he had been holding at bay was easy for Ron to see in his eyes.

"Ron? You can't sit this close to me! You know it's dangerous."

"I only know what you tell me Lupin, and seeing as you're the one chained to the wall you don't have much say in the matter." Anger sparked in the deep brown eyes and Ron stared into them searchingly, but for what he didn't know. He was waiting, waiting for something, but he wouldn't know it until it happened.

"We had an agreement Ron, you are to come no closer then two meters."

"I know, and I'm sorry I'm breaking it. This will be the only time, I swear."

"Ron, so help me if I hurt you I will not be able to live with myself. Don't you understand? This isn't something that you can control!" Lupin was panicking now, and Ron sensed the energy around him begin to intensify. Lupin turned his head away and broke eye contact, and Ron reached out to gently grasp his stubbly chin and pull him up to look in his eyes again.

"I need to see your eyes Lupin."

"Why?" The normally strong and silent man was almost pleading now, desperation taking hold of him, but he held Ron's gaze none the less, staring at him. Confusion had replaced the fear in his eyes.

"I don't know." Ron struggled to answer, gazing deep into the brown orbs, seeing only light and warmth. This was nothing like looking into the dead blackness of the wizard at the waterfall. "I don't know why, but I want to help you Lupin, and I need to see your eyes."

"You can't help me Ron." He pleaded quietly, and Ron felt him gently try to pull his head away. He refused to let go of his face, feeling the warm flesh of his jaw heat his fingers. Lupin didn't think Ron could help him, and Ron was suddenly sure that he could.

"I can." And there it was! Ron stared into the eyes and he saw the briefest flash of gold as the werewolf within began to take over and start to transform the shape of the pupils. The first thing to change in any transformation was the eyes. Ron felt his own eyes flash in response and he lifted his right hand to Lupin's forehead and quickly placed his left on Lupin's chest. The could feel the energy around the man as his body absorbed it from the earth around him, giving him the boost he needed for the change. He could practically feel the energy of the full moon course through his friend's veins, and Ron slowly, extremely cautiously, reached out with his own powers and latched onto the very energy that was trying to engulf Remus. He closed his eyes.

In his mind he could see tendrils of blue creeping in to mingle with a striking pale yellow energy, and then he selectively tied his energy signatures to the yellow ones and began pulling them back into himself. They didn't want to come, they had spent years attaching themselves to this body, imbedding themselves into the very cell structure that built him, but they were not natural, they hadn't been born within him. With a slight tug they suddenly came loose and followed the blue energy chords easily. The energy flowed into Ron, through his arms to his chest, to his stomach and then legs, the down through his feet and into the rock of the mountain. There were some strands that Ron could sense he was missing, but he couldn't see them easily and instinct was telling him to stop searching and retreat from the energy signatures that built the body before him

He felt himself pull away, physically, and he gasped harshly into the heated air surrounding him as he plunged into their reality. The air soothed the aching burn in his chest and he was relieved as the pressure that had been building in his lungs dissipated, leaving him dizzy but otherwise feeling fine. He opened his eyes, wondering what had just happened, and saw Lupin sitting slumped against the wall, staring at him through absolutely exhausted eyes.

"Lupin? Are, are you okay?" He went to reach out to rest a hand on the man and jerked back as he realized what he was doing, what he had done. He had reached out and grabbed Lupin, he had attacked him! Oh god, Lupin was dying! "Lupin! Answer me damn it!" He scooted closer on slightly numb legs and hovered over the pale man, looking over him frantically but afraid to touch him for fear that he would do even more damage. "Lupin!"

"Ron, Ron, it's okay. Ron, I'm here, I'm awake, I'm okay Ron, are you listening? I'm okay!" Ron looked up to meet the brown eyes once again and shook his head, wondering how he had missed Lupin answering his question the first time. The professor looked shaken and unnerved, but he was alive, and breathing.

"I think, I think I should get you to a healer."

"I don't need a healer Ron, I'm fine." He lifted a hand to Ron's shoulder and Ron jerked away without thinking, only realizing his action when sadness crept into the eyes below him. He felt his face flame in embarrassment but he didn't apologize as he looked over the man before him.

"Lupin, what just happened?" Curse his voice for sounding so unsure and pathetic. He should know what happened, he did know what had happened, but he needed to hear it from the man himself. Ron stared incredulously at him, still chained to the wall and panting a bit heavier than was normal.

"I think, Ron, that you just helped me." Lupin suddenly looked down at his hands and lifted them from his lap, turning them over in the air as he inspected them. "Ron, I'm still human."

"You always were human Lupin."

"No but, why? I feel…" He trailed off as he ran his hands over his face and then through his hair as though discovering them for the first time, and Ron sat and stared, shocked. Lupin looked up at Ron and smiled, he smiled so wide Ron thought his face might split in two. "I feel different, changed, like…like I'm finally me again, I'm finally a whole person." He stared at Ron in slight shock, still grinning inanely. Ron didn't think he'd ever seen Lupin look so…giddy.

"How Ron? How did you do this?" Ron jumped to his feet and moved to the table, reaching out for the professor's wand and noting, offhandedly, that Howly wasn't where he had left her.

"I don't really know Lupin, I just," he handed the wand to the man and watched as he quickly freed himself and stood. "I just felt that I could. You had a second energy signature within your cells, I've been sensing it since you arrived but I didn't realize until now what it was. Your curse was ingrained within you, but it wasn't natural. I extracted it…" He trailed off as Howly and Horns suddenly flew into the room and danced around first his and then Lupin's head, and he grinned as they went to play in the werewolf's…in the professors hair, tugging at it in glee and laughing as the man happily tried to gently bat them away.

Ron was having a bit of difficulty coming to terms with Lupin standing before him as a human, and he went and sat down on the roughly hewn stool that Lupin had carved only two days before. Lupin walked quietly to the cot and sat heavily, the exhaustion that Ron had seen before was starting to replace his elation.

"I can still see clearly in the dark" he stated, patting his face once more as if to make sure it was still there, still human. Then he lurched forward to the door and looked out, seeing the full moon, for the first time since he had been a child, with human eyes. He turned back and looked at Ron.

"I couldn't see everything, I couldn't get it all."

"That would explain why I can still smell you as easily as before."

"Is that your way of telling me I need to bathe?"

"I would never imply such a thing to my host." He moved again and this time practically fell onto the cot. Ron had refused to let Lupin sleep on the floor when he had arrived and it had become a rule that Ron would only ever sleep in the cot if he was sick, or Lupin was not in the shelter at all. Ron watched him carefully as he sank into the covers, and then he turned his deep brown eyes on him.

"You've helped me in a way that I can not even begin to explain. Thank you." Ron shrugged and looked away, feeling uncomfortable with the gratitude that was being directed at him. It didn't seem right that Lupin should be grateful that Ron had somehow chased off his curse, if anything Lupin should have expected it. Ron had a lot of sins to pay for, and this, while wonderful, would not come close to atoning what he had done to his best friend.

He looked over to see that Lupin had fallen asleep right where he lay, no doubt absolutely knackered from what he had just gone through. Ron watched him sleep the entire night and well into the next afternoon, waiting for him to awaken and prove that he was, in fact, okay. When he finally awoke, it was to find Ron slumped in his chair, facing the cot, his eyes closed and a light snore emitting from between his lips. Ron didn't notice as the man gently tucked a band of loose hair behind his ear, before heading outside for the rest of the afternoon.

**TBC**

Well, how do you like this new aspect of Ron's abilities?

Harry Lvr, interesting theory! Now you'll have to wait and see if it's right ;P As for the question of Ron using his abilities more and more: You're absolutely correct that I originally had him hating and fearing (and consequently trying to avoid using) his powers. However, when something is so natural it eventually becomes impossible to avoid, especially when it does prove beneficial in the end. Think of it as having a third arm: it's there, and if you don't use it, it just gets in the way.

Thank you so much for the reviews! What would I do without you!

**NOTE: The title of this story will change to "WAYWARD SON" next upload/ Thank you.**

**Next Update**: September 11, 2005


	25. Chapter 25

It had been three days since Ron had helped Lupin, and he found that he was still having difficulty coming to terms with it. A life long curse, one that he had fully believed would be the death of him, and not a death that would happen at a ripe old age, had been lifted in a matter of minutes. Years of studies and potions and the closest they had ever come to taming the werewolf within was with Severus Snape's wolfsbane potion. And now Remus Lupin was no longer a werewolf, no longer cursed by the moon, no longer to be feared by the public or even his friends. He was a free man. A smile broke free on his lips as he bent and dug a piece of wood from under the snow, snapping it in half to make it easier to carry.

The morning after Ron had awoken after a four hour nap in his chair, not complaining once about how absolutely stiff his neck must have been. He had trudged outside, looking worse then was normal for him, and he had spent the next hour sitting on his rock and watching Forge as the creature lay resting under the branches of several large trees. Lupin had been itching to ask him more questions about how he had done what he had done, but he honestly didn't think that the flaming haired boy even understood. Instinct had driven him, like it had driven him in so many other situations since the emergence of his powers, and Lupin was thankful for it. Then Ron had told him about how he had learned, in history class, that a chaneller named Galindral had somehow amassed the loyalty of an army of werewolves. Ron had never understood how he had done it, but he had always wondered how a chaneller, who only stole and gave energy, could accomplish such a thing. Making the connection that night had been simple. Ron thought he should have been able to figure it out sooner, as though his gift was something that came with a text of instructions complete with example.

Turning these thoughts over in his mind Lupin began trudging the short distance back to Ron's shelter. He was just wondering what time Ron would be coming back to their abode when he heard a sudden sharp cry and the loud, unmistakable, beating of heavy wings. He threw his gathered wood to the ground without a thought and raced to the clearing that surrounded their home. The hair on the back of his neck was standing to attention and he burst into the space to see what was wrong; he had never heard Forge cry out like that before, and it couldn't be good. He arrived just in time to see Ron half sliding, half falling from the dragon's back, and then stumbling to his hands and knees as he failed to catch himself. Lupin paid no heed to the dangerous creature with six deadly ends, and raced over to his friend, kneeling down. The scent of blood was strong in the air, and he noted that it had left a trail on the dragon's thick hide where Ron had slid down it.

"Ron! What happened? Where are you hurt?" He demanded, reaching out and pulling back at the last second, not wanting to scare his easily agitated friend.

"I'm fine, s'just a scratch." He muttered and went to push himself up, only to stifle a cry and hug his torso.

"And I'm the new head of the Ministry of Magic. Ron, let me help you."

"Congratulations on yer promotion." He wheezed and pulled himself together enough to struggle to his knees, using Forge's rib cage for aid. The dragon's piercing eyes were staring at Ron as he moved. "I'm fine."

"You're not." Lupin retorted and, hoping Ron wouldn't react too badly, he reached under the younger mans shoulders and helped him to stand upright. Other then a slight jerk Ron didn't react, which spoke volumes to Lupin about how much pain he must be in. Now that Ron was standing he could see the tears in his jacket, and the blood soaked shirt beneath it. He didn't panic as he half dragged half carried Ron to the shelter and struggled to get them both through the narrow door. Despite his skinny frame he was a heavy man, no doubt from all his outdoor activities and Lupin was out of breath as he gently lay him on the cot and pulled the jacket aside.

"I'm going to have to remove the jacket." Ron simply nodded with his eyes closed and sat up with Lupin's help, shrugging out of the heavy brown material. It was tossed to the floor and forgotten as Lupin carefully eyed his charge, seeing the pressed lips and the slightly green pallor. He jumped up and ran the few steps to the 'cooker' grabbing the only pot they had as well as the filled bucket of water. He sat them beside the bed and pulled his wand, warming the water. A moment later he turned the tip of the wand into a magical knife and looked at Ron's ruined shirt.

"I'm going to cut your shirt off." For a moment he thought that Ron might actually protest, but the action was stalled by a gasp of pain and Lupin set to work regardless of any possible protest, carefully pulling the flimsy material out from under Ron's back and surveying the damage done. There were three gouges that ran across his stomach and around his right side, ending just shy of the back. Lupin summoned a few moderately clean shirts from the end of the bed, sterilized them as best he could with a spell, and then began to carefully mop up the blood.

"Ron, you need a healer."

"No good. Not. Enough. Energy. To get. There." The red head replied between breaths, astutely not looking down at his mangled torso.

"I can bring one here."

"No." There was no arguing that matter, at least not at the moment. Lupin dipped a clean shirt into the water and very delicately wiped around the edges of the wounds. They looked awfully familiar.

"Ron, are these wounds from a dragon?"

"What else?" He ground out, shying away slightly as Lupin cleaned but not fussing about the treatment. Lupin didn't know what else could have gotten the boy, Ron himself had gone on for an hour about the creatures he had encountered in the forest, and had very carefully drilled it into Lupin's head that he had even been injured by some of them. It had been his way of warning Lupin not to wander off alone.

Lupin refrained from comment as he cleaned, carefully inspecting each slice. They weren't very ragged, so whatever breed of dragon that had attacked Ron had very sharp claws, or perhaps a tail. When the blood was mopped away as best as the wounds would allow Lupin finally saw the scars that mottled the pale young flesh. It took a moment for him to comprehend what he was looking at even though he had expected their presence at Ron's shyness to change in front of him. Once the shock wore off he glared at them with vehemence for only a moment before forcing himself to ignore them. They were there, and he could do nothing about that fact. Now was not the time to begin his daily cursing of Giles McTagert, may he rot in Hades, nor was it the time to feel hatred or sadness and it was definitely not the time to ask about them. He doubted there would ever be a time when he could ask about them, and he was fairly positive he didn't want to know any of the details anyhow.

The wounds hadn't disembowelled Ron, thank Merlin, but they had torn through his stomach muscles like tissue paper. Lupin frowned at the gaping wounds. He wasn't a healer; he didn't know what kind of spells could help with this beyond basic first aid. He didn't even how to properly dress such wounds to keep them clean. It was at that moment when Hornblend and Howlite came charging through the door to them to land delicately beside Ron's wounds, looking and pointing and frowning as they spoke quietly to one another. Moments later Howlite disappeared and Horns looked up at Lupin, his red eyes glowing. After a few moments he determined that the creature simply wanted him to continue his ministrations as Ron's breathing evened into an magically induced sleep. Lupin did so without complaint, heating the water even more to hopefully stave off infection.

Once clean he gently pressed several make-shift bandages to the wounds, noting that the bleeding had almost completely stopped. Fascinating, with wounds this severe they should have bled until there was nothing left in his veins. He pressed the bandages down a moment and then wondered if he should cast a spell to hold them in place, seeing as they had no form of tape. A moment later, however, the whip that Ron usually kept carefully hidden began snaking up from his bare arm, over his shoulder and then down his chest. It loosened its grip and slid down and around, engulfing Ron's torso in several loops before resting over the bandages in several places and tightening slightly to keep the pressure. Lupin removed his hand and stared at it in wonder, noting for the first time how the whips copper and black cord looked like the actual tail of a dragon. It was modified of course, seeing as it could flatten itself out and it could stretch or compress its length considerably. Its deep red and copper coloured handle had wrapped securely around Ron's right shoulder, looking absurdly like a mesh of armour. _No doubt his brothers will be absolutely fascinated by it when he comes home_ Lupin thought fondly. _Though I doubt they'll get much time with him once Harry has him back, that man is going to be as stuck to Ron like this whip._

"What did you get yourself into this time?" He muttered quietly into the still room, watching Ron's sleeping face. It was easy for Lupin to determine the facial characteristics the boy got from his mother and his father, and those that were his own. His slightly longer then average nose was from his father's side, though most of his siblings had managed to avoid that trait. And the tanned face from months under the sun was dotted with freckles that made him appear even darker then he was, while his wrapped chest practically glowed in its paleness. There was dirt along his neck and embedded deep under his short (no doubt chewed) fingernails, and his hair was beginning to flatten to his head. He hadn't washed it in four days, and seeing as they had very little soap left Ron was probably holding off as long as possible. Lupin's eyes traveled along the pale right arm where the whip usually lay, and his eyes rested on the bangle that was locked around the wrist. The flesh beneath it was slightly swollen and redder then was healthy, much as it had been the entire time Lupin had been here. He wondered how Ron had hurt his limb, and why it hadn't healed yet, but he was drawn away from his musings as Ron groaned slightly and then fell silent.

Even in sleep Ron didn't relax, though this time the pain in his body most likely had a lot to do with that. As Lupin sat silently and watched, occasionally dabbing a cool cloth across his flushed forehead and tipping a teaspoon of water through his lips, he noticed every grimace of pain in the crinkles around the eyes and the tightening of thinned out lips. He lost track of time as he sat vigil, heating the room and waiting in fear that an infection would start. He noted that his energy level were dropping rapidly, especially as he was feeling wide awake, and was glad to know that Ron's body, while not under his command, was taking energy from wherever it could to help begin its healing. Lupin began keeping an eye on his own energy, knowing that if he had to he would leave the hut to recuperate. Ron's family had been reminiscing one night how tired they had all been while waiting for Ron to recover after the battle with Voldemort, and they had deduced that he had been borrowing the energy he had needed from them without knowing. Lupin gladly gave it to him, but he was not going to risk both their lives by remaining in place too long and being drained completely. Who knew how much energy Ron might need?

It must have been six hours later when Howlite banged into the door and rushed in, letting the cold air follow her before Lupin could raise his wand and close it with a quick flick of the wrist. He stared as she dropped a vile no larger then his thumbnail (and subsequently one third of her body mass) into his hand. He lifted it to inspect tiredly, looking into the murky brown liquid and not seeing any label. He looked at her and Hornblend as their tiny wings fluttered behind them, creating a blur of light as they darted about in agitated circles and watched him. Hornblend made a motion as though he were drinking from a cup, and then pointed at Ron commandingly. Lupin didn't question the action of slowly pouring the unknown substance into Ron's mouth and massaging his throat so that the young man swallowed it all. He found that he trusted the fairies to do what was right by their friend.

He left the shelter shortly after to sit on Ron's favourite rock outside and stare up at the stars. It was cold, and he was exhausted, and before he knew it he had slipped into sleep leaning against the slightly ice covered rock wall, glad that there were no trees growing from its face where he was sitting. He awoke to the first rays of sunlight, finding himself wrapped in the heaviest blankets that Ron had. He looked down at the ugly brown and yellow chequered pattern in wonder, before flinging it off and rushing into the shelter. How could he have fallen asleep so easily when Ron had needed him! He marched to the injured mans bedside and kneeled down, looking over him carefully.

Whip still remained coiled around the bandages, but there was no blood marring them that Lupin could see. He gently placed the back of his hand on Ron's forehead and was relieved when there was no feverish heat to be felt. As he was pulling his hand away Ron frowned in what looked like annoyance and turned his head away.

"Go 'way mum, 'm fine." He muttered before sighing and falling silent again, his head turned away from Lupin and his arms hanging limply by his side. Lupin looked over and saw Hornblend dancing about in the larger then normal fire, playing with the flickering flames and coaxing them into creating more warmth. His partner was no where to be seen and Hornblend flew over to Lupin a moment later and stood on his knee, looking up questioningly

"Thank you for the blanket." No doubt without it Lupin would have been a frozen wizard long before then. The fairy grinned widely and then turned to face Ron, sitting down where he was. Lupin sighed and remained still, taking up his bedside administrations once again. The only thing that moved him over the next seven hours was to try and check Ron's bandages (which Whip refused to move off from), to regain his energy away from Ron, and to take care of more personal matters. Lunch had come and gone by the time Ron's haunted blue eyes opened, and he looked up at Lupin in confusion, trying to see through his thick, sleep coated lashes.

"Don't move, you've been injured." Lupin ordered immediately, fearing the boy would reopen his wounds.

"What…" The dry voice broke off into a brief coughing fit and Ron groaned, lightly wrapping his arms over his bandages. Lupin handed him a mug half filled with water and he drained it greedily, handing it back with shaking hands. He looked down at himself, staring a moment at the bandages before he realized that his chest was in fact bare. He reached to the thick pullover that Lupin had been using during his stay here and dragged it carefully over himself, effectively cutting off Lupin's line of sight. They both knew it was a pointless action, but if it made Ron feel more secure then Lupin didn't mind at all. Staring at the scars all morning and wondering exactly how they had been caused wasn't healthy anyway.

"How long have I been out?" Ron tried again, and looked relatively pleased that he had strung the words together and made sense as he looked up at Lupin.

"Almost a day. You gave us quite the scare." Ron looked over to see that his fairy friends were both perched on Lupin's knee and watching him carefully. He smiled weakly at them before giving up on the action and slumping back down on his pillow, where they promptly flew into his mess of hair and settled in.

"Sorry." He muttered tiredly and prodded carefully at the blanket. "Thanks fer, ummm, patching me up. I don't suppose I would have made it without yer help."

"It wasn't just me. Forge brought you home and Howlite brought you some form of medicine." Ron nodded and closed his eyes tiredly, before snapping them open again as though he was afraid to rest. It was unnatural how blue his eyes were at that moment, they were as stunning as Harry's own green ones. "It's okay Ron, you need to rest."

"Forge? He was okay?"

"He seemed to be, though I admit my attention was focused elsewhere."

"Stupid git almost got 'imself killed coming after me." Ron grumbled, his face turning a slightly angry shade of red as he remembered back to exactly what had happened.

"I'm sure he felt the risk was necessary."

"Whatever." Ron tried to roll away but froze and grimaced in pain.

"We need to check your wounds Ron, see how they're doing."

"They're fine, no need to bother. I'm sure you've got other things you could be doing."

"Not really." It was apparent that Ron, awake and in control of his faculties, was no longer interested in cooperating with Lupin, nonetheless Lupin didn't want to leave just yet. So instead he went to prepare some food. When he turned back Ron was fast asleep again, a tiny snore occasionally tickling the back of his throat, his fairies singing lightly above him. When he next awoke it was to find Lupin asleep in the very spot Ron had rested while waiting for him to awaken from his werewolf ordeal.

000000

Ron stood over the table that held the warm bucket of water and looked towards the door briefly before stripping out of his loose t-shirt. It was four and a half days since his confrontation with the dragon, and he was relieved to finally be able to be out of bed for longer then fifteen minutes at a time. He looked down at his stomach and glared at the bandages that were pressed tightly to his skin, hating the fact that he had been caught so off guard as to have needed them in the first place. He wished, not for the first time, that he still had his ability to sense the presence of others around him. He had only had the skill for a little over a year, but he was still trying to adapt to its loss, even after all this time.

"All right Whip, you can come off. I need to have a look." He ordered gently and tried not to squirm as the object tickled his sides while loosened and hung loosely over his narrow hips as though it were a belt that didn't work. Carefully he pulled the shirt-turned-bandage away first from his top wound, biting his tongue to keep from crying out as the dried blood and other healing bodily fluids pulled sharply at his flesh. He threw the material aside and prodded around the edge of the wound, surprised at how it looked. Despite how severe the cut had been, it was now over halfway healed; new pink flesh was pulling around the edges of the wound and it had mostly closed off from the inside out. It still hurt like a bludger, but it was no longer endangering his life or his ability to move about.

He carefully pulled off the other two and saw that they were in the same condition. There was no bleeding, no sign of infection, and it the muscle was pulling itself back together nicely.

"Unreal." He muttered to himself dipping a fresh shirt into the bucket and cleaning it before finding the large sterile shirt that Lupin had left out and pressing it over the wounds again, waiting a moment as the whip once more snaked around his torso and pinned the garment into place. "Useful aren't you." He stated softly and then slowly pulled another shirt over his head before moving back to the bed and wrapping the blanket around his shoulders. It was still and quiet all around him, as the fairies had followed Lupin on his wood gathering expedition and Ron was once again refusing to allow a fire to be lit during the day light.

He sat quietly and stared at a spot on the wall that was crumbling a bit, and he wondered if he should bother repairing it, seeing as he would probably be leaving soon. He didn't want Lupin here much longer, though his presence had been a relief. It was becoming too dangerous in these mountains, and Ron didn't want to think of what might happen if Lupin was left alone and a dragon attacked. He could apparate of course, but only if he had enough time to pull his wand and think of some co-ordinates. He looked over at the door as he heard Lupin push it open one handed and walk in carrying a heavy load of sticks. Neither said anything as he went and dropped his load in its place along the wall, puttering about a moment as he straightened it up and looking at Ron. He tried not to squirm as the sharp eyes looked him over quickly, making their own assessment before turning away and noticing the used bandage/shirts lying in a pile on the floor.

"How are your wounds?" He asked with his usual soft voice.

"Fine. They'll be healed fully in two days I should think."

"It's incredible that you can heal this fast, another person would not have been so lucky."

"I doubt another person would have been walking alone in dragon territory with an insane wizard about." Ron muttered and glared at his blanket shrouded knees.

"Tell me what happened Ron." Lupin magically heated a mug of water and dropped a tea bag in it. He held it to Ron who shook his head negatively. He didn't want to tell Lupin what had happened, he had been avoiding it these last two days by pretending to be asleep, though he was sure Lupin knew he wasn't. What had happened was that Ron had been an absolute dolt and hadn't been paying attention to his surroundings. Oh no, instead he had been thinking about his family, something he normally avoided with a vicious stubbornness, and wondering how they were, if they even missed him at all like Lupin insisted. This was the problem with having a friend about, they tried to convince you that things weren't as bad as they actually were, and then a person allowed themselves to become hopeful and lose their common sense. The frustration that Ron felt bubbling inside him must have shown on his face as Lupin looked slightly more worried then before.

"Ron?"

"It was a stupid mistake, honestly, an absolutely idiotic trap to run into." He huffed.

"A trap?" Oh, right, he supposed he should really try and explain things rather then venting about happenings that the professor couldn't possibly follow.

"I was distracted, and walked into a field without checking it properly. I was half way across it before I felt that damned dark energy surround me and that bloody wizard appeared from nowhere. He's a big bloke too, I never noticed it before." It was true, the wizard was almost as tall as Ron, but where Ron was lanky he was widely built. Ron suppressed a shiver at the feelings that had run through him as the man had appeared, draped in his heavy brown robes with the hood obscuring most of his face.

"What did he want?"

"Offered me a chance to join him and his cause." Ron glared darkly at the ground, feeling the pull of his healing wounds as he shifted slightly. "And here I had thought the war against Voldemort had been vanquished for good."

"Voldemort." Lupin sat straighter in his seat, his eyes flashing dangerously. "What about him, he's dead."

"Apparently you know that, and I know that, but the tart up in the mountains has no idea. He thinks he's been spending the last ten years perfecting his dragon army for the final battle. He thinks Voldemort's still alive, and he's planning on joining him."

"Does he hold any true dominance over the dragons?"

"The one who snuck up behind me seemed to think the arse was all right." Ron puckered his lips in annoyance, stoutly ignoring the headache that had been beating his brow since his first encounter with the insane wizard. His eyes haunted Ron the few hours he slept, waking him silently in a cold sweat. Ron had not dreamt since he had killed Harry, his sleep, what little of it he took, were his moments of retreat. In sleep he could escape the pain, the memories, the feelings that were sometimes so overwhelming that he had to stop what he was doing and calm himself. This Dragon Lord had somehow permeated his only escape, and it was always the eyes that caused the most fear to course through him.

"I take it you didn't tell him Voldemort was dead."

"I might never have been the most intelligent bloke back in school, but cut me some slack." Ron defended hotly, feeling his frustration begin to boil to the surface. "The last thing that village reject needs to know is that his life ambitions were shot to hell two years ago! I've no idea how many dragons he's got licking his boots and having him suddenly start attacking people in an insane rage is not something I would like to deal with sooner then necessary!" _Confounded, stupid, annoying bloody headache! Just go away!_ He thought angrily, pressing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger to try and relieve the pounding.

"Relax Ron, I wasn't implying that your intelligence was lacking, I just need to know the details." Lupin logically intoned, deflating Ron's annoyance drastically. The red head looked over to watch the pale man a moment, feeling stupid for his outburst. He felt like he was back in school and all he could do was keep getting into trouble. Now, however, was not the time to dwell on how he felt, and it looked like Lupin was planning on heading back to Dumbledore to tell him of this newest revelation. He didn't like that idea at all, but he was a realist, and he would never contemplate holding a man against their will…unless they were Death Eaters.

"I don't know much Lupin, the git only had one dragon in the area so there was no way for me to count his masses." And it was a good thing there was only one dragon as well, because when Ron had been split open he had been knocked breathless and was in too much shock to even think about how to react. So much for having such great powers when simply being knocked to the ground completely immobilized him! If Forge hadn't dropped from the sky like a fireball from the heavens and practically obliterated the attacking dragon when he had Ron wasn't sure what kind of hell he'd be in now.

Fortunately when his saviour had attacked he had startled both the dragon and the wizard, sending the wand wielding maniac to the forest for fear of his deadly tail and melting fire. Ron had been absolutely astounded, as he lay on his back gasping for breath, as the creatures had battle furiously with claws slashing and teeth tearing. Forge had been smaller then his opponent, but the other dragon barely got a bite in as he was left lying limply on the ground. Forge had leapt to Ron and lowered his neck enough for Ron to understand that he wanted him to crawl on. Had he not been bleeding to death and in shock he might have questioned the logic of such actions, but instead he had pulled himself up and painfully crawled on, throwing his leg over the shoulders with some difficulty. Whip had snaked out and wrapped around the thick neck, latching onto Ron's other wrist and effectively securing him to the creatures back. Ron didn't remember the ride, he only remembered that they just escaped before the evil wizard got over his shock and prepared to curse them.

"If he wanted you to join his cause, then it means he fears you enough to truly do battle."

"I think he's too insane to fear anyone." Ron muttered.

"Ron, I need to warn Dumbledore about this, and I don't think the note will get the severity across."

"Fine. I'll give you the coordinates for the nearest town that you can apparate to. I don't think you could make it to the wizarding village in one jump. They'll have muggle transport to take you the rest of the way." Ron refused to look up as he said this, not wanting to look at the man who had been his only human companion in the last year. He tried not to think of how he had finally become accustomed to his presence, and even to this hole in the mountain he called his home. He would have to pack up after Lupin left and find a new dwelling, a new country even, to hide. The thought made him more tired then he cared to admit.

"Ron." Lupin spoke up quietly, and Ron clenched his jaw, knowing what he was going to say even before he said it.

"What is it?"

"You could come with me."

"I can't."

"Ron, you being a chaneller isn't the evil that you have convinced yourself of. It can do just as much good, even more good, then it can evil. We know this, your family isn't afraid of you, and Dumbledore will not allow that idiot Fudge to throw you into Azkaban. We want you to come home Ron, your family needs you, they haven't been the same since you left."

"I never mattered that much, they'll be fine without me."

"Ron!" Lupin looked aghast and Ron felt stupid for letting that last thought slip, even if it was how he felt. He had a large family, sure he would be missed, but there were others that would no doubt squeeze away his place at the table, and with the twins being so loud, and his other siblings having their own positive characteristics, Ron would just be a dark smudge on the family tree. The only person that would have truly missed him would have been his best friend, seeing as Ron had been his only family. _The most important person in Harry's life, _that's what Dumbledore had called him when he had been selected as the prize for the second triwizard task. Ron smiled, not knowing how absolutely lacking in warmth it was, and not caring.

"Ron, you always were one to underestimate yourself, but don't underestimate your family. They love you, and they miss you terribly." Ron didn't know what to say to this, so he did what he had always been good at and avoided the subject.

"You'll be best off leaving tomorrow at first light. I don't think this Dragon Lord," he spit the title with venom, "will wait much longer for his attack."

"We need you on our side Ron. Harry needs…"

"I'm not going to run off." He snapped harshly, cutting off whatever Lupin had been about to say about what Harry would have wanted. Ron had been his best friend for seven years, he had been a Gryffindor, he knew what Harry would have wanted, and he knew what he expected of himself. After everything he had been through, one more battle was hardly anything, and maybe at the end he would find peace. "This is as much my fight as anyone's, perhaps even more. This wizard targeted me, and I'm not about to let that go. He wants a fight, and he'll get one, but first I need to know more. I'll scout the mountains and find what information I can, and I'll send it to you, but who knows what will happen beyond that."

"Who knows indeed." Lupin sighed, and moved back towards the door, thinking hard. Ron pretended not to watch him as he quietly slipped out into the dwindling sunlight. Howlite and Hornblend had disappeared sometime the night before, leaving his side for the first time since Forge had flown his worthless hide back to this home. Ron closed his eyes and breathed deeply, feeling the energy of the rocks and ground around him, but holding it at bay so that it wouldn't overwhelm him. Tomorrow he would take Forge and go scouting, but for now he needed to rest. No doubt Lupin wasn't happy with his decision to not return, but there was nothing else to be done.

TBC 

Well, I hope you're still with me after the title change!

Thanks for the reviews!

Joruby, to answer your question: Ron channelled the werewolf 'energy' through his body and dispersed it into the ground through his feet. I suppose he would have become at least partially wolfish in this situation, but only if he hadn't released the energy that he was wielding. Thanks for the review!

And, to answer several statements: No, Lupin isn't a werewolf anymore! Isn't that great! I mean, I had to leave him with at least _some_ of his wolfish characteristics (senses) but other then that he's free! I figured he'd suffered long enough ;)

I'm really glad you all thought the description of the scene with Ron and Lupin during the 'change' was good! You know how you see something in your mind and then trie to put it into words? Yeah, that was one of those situation…actually this whole story has been I guess.

Harry lvr, by Tom Riddle I meant Voldemort…I think…yeah…yeah that's what I meant! And sorry, but I hate giving away spoilers. I know you love it, but I just can't! It goes against the suspense :P

Catc10, I'm glad you're happy!

Scribhneoir (it always takes me three tries to spell your alias right!) Yes! Insecurities perfectly portrayed! Wicked! And the fairies…gotta love the fairies!

Anyway, you might have noticed my responses are a bit weird this time around…sorry. I'm really tired and I just had a bad shift at work. Ah well. Hope you are all doing well! And (to the 100+ of you who are following this story and not saying anything about what you think) I look forward to your comments! I appreciate the feedback!

**Next Update:** September 13, 2005

I can sense that you're going to enjoy that chapter…Yeah, I really think some of you might :) Mwa ha haaaaa


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

Charlie Weasely stepped lightly out of his tent; not bothering to close it behind him as his partner and long time friend Eugene Fredericton was exiting right behind him. He didn't wait for the taller man as he stooped over and scooped up a handful of snow, forming it into the perfect projectile with practiced ease and carefully aiming it at the back of Marion Buckley. Her partner, Igor Pausvich, gave her absolutely no warning of Charlie's actions as he stood and watched the snowball fly through the air and hit her square between the shoulder blades. Instead he laughed as she whirled around and glared at Charlie, impatiently brushing a loose lock of curly green hair behind her cheek.

"Charlie Weasley! That is the last time you are going to get one up on me you runt!" She glared at him and he laughed, immensely enjoying how easy it was to annoy her. It was just like baiting Percy, only she retaliated with less finesse which made it all the better. At his laughter the anger dimmed from her eyes and her lips quirked slightly, until Igor laughed along with Charlie and she turned to punch him on the arm. At five feet nine inches it was no light knock, yet he kept laughing and Eugene chuckled a moment in his own, quiet way. It wasn't often these days that Charlie let loose and actually, really, enjoyed himself, and it was infectious.

"Runt!" He exclaimed, mock hurt filling his voice. "I'm five foot eight! That hardly calls for being classified as the runt!"

"It's enough in this group, so get used to it." She snapped good naturedly and then turned back to the map she had been studying before. Charlie grinned but said nothing more as he and Eugene stepped up to join them around the floating parchment that detailed the mountains they were currently stationed. She was pointing out their location with her wand and marking the path that they would follow that day and they decided on what equipment they might need, which amounted to warm clothes, a pouch of emergency healing potions and herbs, food and their wands. There really wasn't much you couldn't to with a wand.

Once plotted they set out along the snow covered path and into the trees, Marion leading and Charlie taking up the rear in their single file line. It wasn't any different to the last four days they had been on this assignment in the Carpathian Mountains. Charlie always took the rear position unless he was leading the troupe, and he wouldn't have it any other way. He felt most secure when he could see where each one of his team members were at all times. This had annoyed Marion at first, as she was the least easy going in the group and insisted that they each take turns at walking different positions. That hadn't worked to well as Charlie had been overly fidgety and was always looking behind him to make sure they were okay. As it were, years of working together in all manner of dangerous, dragon oriented jobs had them practically reading each others minds.

Charlie wondered, not for the first time this week, if there was any real merit for these excursions, especially as they hadn't found any dragons yet. It was mid February, and the creatures tended to be rather docile at this time, choosing to only come out when they needed to hunt or when a new dragon might enter their territory. The Carpathian Mountains had long been recognized as a haven for all manner of cold climate dragons and there had never been any real problems in this area. It was extremely rare that one would even venture down to a village, so he couldn't see why they were there. But word of some trouble had reached Dumbledore, which had then filtered to his department, which had then decided to mount a small expedition to appease the Headmaster of Hogwarts, who had been rather insistent.

"Ye know, it's a bit odd that we haven't even seen a drag out huntin'. Last I checked there was quite the number cohabiting in these mountains. It doesn't make sense that it's this calm." Eugene spoke up as they packed their tiny lunches away and began their trek once more. Charlie wrapped his scarf more securely around his neck and frowned at the back of the tall blond mans head. Population statistics wasn't his area, but Eugene was hardly ever wrong when it came to such knowledge.

"Half the population in this area are night dwellers." Igor pointed out.

"That doesn't account fer the second half, and I know that they must be hungry after not coming out in our area for the last four days."

"When was the last time a population stat was done around here?" Marion asked, stopping and asking her wand which way was north before continuing on.

"July, eight years ago."

"It's been a while then. That's a bit of a stretch isn't it?" Charlie spoke up, glancing into the bushes at his left and then right before they emerged into a small clearing and entered another clump of trees. "Population stats are usually run every three years."

"I think the war with You-Know-Who caused a kink in the research schedules. There weren't enough people on hand to do a count two years ago and the higher ups probably forgot all about these mountains. They never were a priority anyhow." Marion threw over her shoulder. Charlie frowned, thinking back to the war, the final battle and everything that had happened since. His good mood evaporated a bit but he did his best to sound cheerful for his friends, not wanting to drag them into his all too frequent bouts of sadness, which led to wondering where his brother was and whether he was even still alive. Now was not the time to dwell however, so he pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind to focus on his task.

"Still," Eugene insisted, "there was a fair sized population here and we haven't seen any sign of them. Something isn't right."

"Oh stop being so paranoid." Igor laughed over his shoulder. "The drags are just bein' their normal unpredictable selves. They'll show eventually."

"I can hardly wait." Eugene answered and then the group fell into silence, each contemplating the same thing: why had they not seen any signs of a dragon population. Now that Charlie thought back they had never had so much trouble trying to locate a member of the species, it wasn't normally this difficult seeing as how big they are and how little they tried to cover their tracks.

They walked for the rest of the afternoon, marching higher and higher into the mountains, and becoming more and more uneasy with their lack of sightings.

"This is getting bizarre." Charlie muttered when Marion finally called a halt to their hike and they huddled closer together to gain the illusion of warmth. The temperature had been steadily dropping all afternoon and even he was beginning to go numb from the cold, despite his heating and insulation spells.

"We'll contact headquarters when we get back to camp and fill them in. They might want to send more people out. Maybe we could get Yvonne's team to join us, Martin is the best in the business as far as tracking the creatures goes." Igor said, looking around to see if that course of action was agreed upon. There were nods all around and Charlie looked out over the cliff to gaze at the mountains in the distance. It really was beautiful, but there was an eerie silence filling the landscape and he got a chill down his spine.

"Let's head back." He suggested and Marion nodded, looking pleased at the idea of getting into their warm tents.

"We'll go first." She decided for everyone and Igor pulled his wand to join her. They apparated to their camp site and left the two men standing alone on the cliff.

"What's wrong?" Eugene asked quietly, gripping Charlie's tense shoulder and looking at him with concern.

"I don't know. Something feels wrong here."

"An imbalance." Eugene agreed.

"Let's get back; I don't want to leave them alone for too long." They pulled their wands and he felt a bit more secure as the mahogany fit perfectly into his grip. They apparated efficiently, reappearing in the center of the large clearing they had chosen to camp beside. Charlie had no sooner appeared when he felt something enormous and solid impact with his chest and send him flying ten feet away. _Thank Merlin for snow_ he thought as he rolled and picked himself up, trying to catch his breath and look to see just what the hell was going on.

"Look Out!" Igor hollered and Charlie threw himself to the left as a flaming blue fireball tore through the air where he had just been standing. The dragon that had spit it looked irritated that it had missed but was distracted as Marion tossed a powerful stunning spell at it, hitting it directly in the face. It roared angrily and whipped its ball ended tail at her. She was just able to get a barrier shield between herself and serious injury before tossing another stunner. It did nothing. Charlie reared back and threw his own stunner at it, and smiled wickedly as it stumbled under the impact and turned back to him.

It was a Swiss Balltail Spitfire, and it was living up to its name spectacularly as it sent another ball of fire sizzling past him to melt in the snow behind. It was then that Charlie saw Igor and Eugene to the left, Eugene trying to half drag their limping friend out of the reach of yet another dragon. An absolutely enormous red Hungarian Knifetail was bouncing back and forth on its powerful back legs, preparing to lash his tail at the retreating men and cut them down. Charlie threw a knock out hex at it, one he usually reserved for his most dire situations. This, he had already decided, was one of them. He glared in shock a moment as it only stunned the beast and then the creature was looking around to see who had sent the attack. Knifetails were known for their viciousness, but fortunately they tended to be a little slow on the uptake.

Turning back to the yellow and green Spitfire he saw it take a swing at Marion with his tail but she jumped out of its way and started to run around it towards the other two.

"We can't hold them off! We need to apparate!" He yelled over the large animal's heavy breaths and loudly flapping wings. The Knife tail saw him and began moving his way slowly as the other creature seemed more interested in the other three.

"My wand was knocked somewhere in the snow!" Eugene hollered back as Igor tried another stunning spell that paused the great green beast in its tracks a moment, and he tossed another to try and confuse it even more. This only seemed to enrage it. Charlie swore loudly and apparated to them just as the Knifetail got close enough to slash at him. He appeared next to Marion and sprinted as fast as he could through the deep snow to take up Igor's other arm. He saw that the man had a deep gash right across the top of his thigh, and it was bleeding badly. He looked up and noted that the dragons were standing a good twenty meters apart, but they had both zoomed in on their group.

"We need to split up!" He ordered and threw three stunners in a row at the angry Knifetail.

"Why aren't the spells working?" Marion cried out and tossed a few of her own, watching in worry as the red streaks of magic only slowed the beast.

"I don't know!" Charlie yelled back and glared as the animals, no more then fifteen meters away from them, as they slowly spread apart and began approaching, starting to circle around them. Being in a group was a bad idea, but Charlie honestly couldn't see how else they could create a strong enough offence.

"Get out of here!" Eugene suddenly yelled.

"Have you lost yer marbles! We're not leaving you!"

"Ye don't have much of a choice mate! It's either one of us or all of us!" he argued back and glared over at Charlie, his pale green eyes flashing in fear and conviction.

"Stupid Git!" Charlie yelled back, absolutely refusing to leave his partner of four years, but his argument was suddenly stalled as a fierce cry carried through the sky and another dragon with almost blindingly orange wings appeared from above the trees.

"Great, it's a party." Marion commented dryly, her features determined to see this thing through, no matter what. Charlie noticed, however, that the other dragons had stopped in their approach and were watching the newcomer with sharp, slitted eyes. It only took a moment for the mad creatures to deem that the new dragon was of no consequence, and seeing that the creature was half their size Charlie understood why they didn't feel threatened. Their eerie cold eyes focused back on him and his friends as they tried to back away, wands pointed in defence. He was about to send another curse, hoping that it might have more then a slight effect when, out of absolutely nowhere, a man in a shabby brown coat with black hair materialized in front of them. He was directly between them and the dragons.

"Ye fool! Get out of the way!" Igor yelled and, as one, they stopped their retreat to stare in shock as the idiot pulled out a whip and cracked it menacingly in the air, barely missing the Spitfires face. Charlie stared in utter admiration at the sheer insanity of this man who thought he could stop two dragons where the four of them, who were trained in this area, hadn't been able to form spit.

"Stop!" the commanding voice rang through the air right after the bullet crack of his weapon and, to their amazement, the animals stopped and were staring at him as though they suddenly didn't know what to do. "You have no cause to be here!" The man hollered as though the creatures understood exactly what he was saying. One of the creatures growled deep in its throat and Charlie, finally having a moment to breathe, felt the magical energy crackling through the air. He stared hard at the newcomers head, wondering why he sounded so familiar, and he saw the man flinch as the creature grumbled deeply. The creature saw this too, and suddenly both animals didn't seem so uncertain as they took one and then two giant steps closer.

"Please! Stop!" The man almost sounded desperate, as though he was in pain as he begged. His whip had disappeared from his grasp and he was raising his arms to point at them.

"He's suicidal!" Eugene muttered as they stood and watched, completely frozen by the utter stupidity of the man's actions, and Charlie felt a wrenching in his heart at the mans pleading tone. The urge to help him, to comfort him rose strongly in his chest and he sucked in a sharp breath, not understanding why he was so drawn to him. He saw the Knifetail slowly pull back his tail and prepare to whip, and he screamed warning just as it was about to let loose. But there had been no reason to call out as, to his absolute shock, the creature's black eyes suddenly rolled into the back of his head and it was falling limply to the ground; it was as though a switch had been turned off. The Spitfire roared in absolute fury and charged at the stranger, who had raised his left arm to point at it. The dragon made it two steps before it appeared to crash into an enormous invisible wave and was thrown back violently through the air. Its head flung around and it screamed as it landed twenty meters from where it had stood and rolled brutally over the ground until it crashed into the thick pine trees bordering their field. It failed to get up. Charlie stared, unable to close his mouth in disbelief as he tried to comprehend what had just happened.

"Bugger me." Igor exhaled, and somehow that broke the sudden death silence of the area. The orange winged dragon from before cried somewhere off in the distance and Charlie looked back at their saviour, only to see him fall to his knees in the snow and wrap his arms around his head in anguish. He let go of Igor's arm and was rushing over to the fallen man, not understanding his urgency to help but knowing, somehow, that what had just taken place had been devastating to this person. He fell to his knees before him but found himself at a loss of what to do. The black haired man was shaking violently, his breaths coming in harsh gasps as though he was trying with all his might to control himself.

"Hey." Charlie called softly, reaching out towards him and intending to put a hand of support on his shoulder.

"Don't touch me." Was the harshly gushed order and he pulled away as though he'd been bitten, feeling the vehemence in the man's voice. The energy was crackling around them, making his hair stand on end but he refused to pull away despite the threatening tone. And then, without warning, the black hair simply switched to a bright fiery red that gleamed in the sunlight and Charlie stared stupidly, not quite understanding what it meant. And then, as though he had been hit with a thousand bludger's, the identity came to him.

"Ron?" He gasped, not remembering a time when he had ever sounded so unsure. The man before him suddenly stopped shaking and slowly pulled his arms away from his head and glanced up. His eyes were as hard as ice and he looked as though he was expecting to see a row of corrupt executioners. Charlie saw the moment his youngest brother realized who he was, because his already pale face turned ashen and his mouth gaped open like a stunned fish as he gasped in absolute surprise. He looked absolutely horrible, and it was one of the most beautiful things Charlie had ever seen.

"Ron." He called again and this time he sounded surer. Ron flinched, and Charlie jerked in response before his fierce feelings of protection from before overcame him again. "Ron!" He cried and, despite his little brothers earlier warning, he reached out with both arms and grabbed him, hauling him bodily to him and dragging him onto his lap as he embraced him. He felt Ron stiffen in panic, and then he felt as he began to thrash about in desperation to break free; he absolutely refused to let go, his arms, strengthened from years of working with dragons, were well up to the challenge. It only took ten seconds for his brother's energy to deplete and he sagged in his arms as though defeated. He started trembling again and he hid his face in Charlie's thick robes.

"Thank Merlin you're okay, thank you God for bringing you back!" He kissed Ron's dirty red hair and hugged him tighter, completely oblivious to his friends as they approached the two of them and sat down in the snow to tend to Igor's leg wound. They did nothing to interrupt as Charlie muttered thank you to anything that would listen and Ron remained boneless in his arms. It was a good ten minutes before Ron was able to move again, and when he looked up his eyes were lost and afraid and completely confused.

"Charlie? What are you doing here?" He asked and Charlie had to laugh at the innocence in the eyes, despite the pain that mingled with it.

"Looking for dragon's, what else?"

"All the way out here?"

"It's as good a place as any." Ron suddenly pushed himself out of Charlie's grasp and scrambled a few feet away in the snow. It was then that Charlie noticed his friends had once again armed themselves and were looking apprehensively behind them. Charlie looked and saw that the orange and brown dragon was back, had landed in fact, and was staring at them like he wanted nothing more then to charge at the group. But it was holding back, and bouncing from one front foot to the other, its wings twisting about and its spikes rising and falling with each agitated breath. Ron looked over then as well, and cursed.

"Shit. Don't hurt him." He ordered, and they instantly lowered their wands before wondering why the hell they had followed his instruction without question. Ron pushed himself to his feet, seeming to pull himself together, and marched around the dead dragon to the live, agitated one. He walked right up to it.

"Ron! What are you doing!" he shouted and the two others that had wands instantly raised them again. Ron ignored them all as he stood before the large creature and waited for it to lower its head, when he then placed a hand on its snout as though he had done it a hundred times and the two stared at each other for a few moments before the dragon snorted smoke and pulled back, stomping off of few meters and flopping down to rest as though it were annoyed with something. Ron turned back to them and eyed Charlie's friends with doubt.

"Lower yer wands." Charlie ordered instantly and once again they listened to a Weasely without question. Ron walked back to them slowly, but he focused his eyes on the dead creature before him, he stumbled once but caught himself and Charlie was instantly worried that he had been injured during his bout with the animals. He stepped forward but was halted as Ron spoke softly and commandingly.

"I'm fine, please, don't come any closer."

"Ron, what the hell is going on?"

"It would seem you were attacked by dragons. I was in the neighbourhood and thought I'd drop by to lend a hand."

"That's not what I meant." He growled, upset by his brother's sudden fear of him, not knowing how to treat him in this situation, and wanting nothing more then to whisk him home to be with his family, where he belonged.

"I know." Ron answered and reached out to touch the dragon with his shaking right hand. Charlie saw a strange red glove but ignored it, more worried that the creature would suddenly leap up and take his brother from him forever. "It's dead." He announced, though Charlie was positive he had already known that.

"No kidding." Igor replied, and gasped as Marion suddenly put too much pressure on the wound she was wrapping. Ron didn't look at any of them as he began to move towards the next dragon. Charlie followed, keeping a good meter between them but refusing to move any further away. His brother avoided his eyes like the plague and stared ahead at his target.

"This is where you've been?" He asked quietly, "All this time?"

"It was as good a place as any." Ron replied, his voice sounded weak, tired, like he was on the verge of collapse.

"Why didn't you come home?" He asked, unable to hide the hurt from his voice and silently cursed as Ron flinched at the tone but kept moving. He didn't answer. Instead they approached the dragon and Charlie saw, to his horror, that it was still breathing, although very shallowly. Ron stopped two meters away and suddenly the whip was back in his hand and he was flicking it out to wrap around one thick arm.

"What are-"

"Shhh." Ron hissed and then stared at the animal as though in a trance. Charlie looked over at its face and saw its eye, black and empty, staring back at him. He shuddered, seeing nothing but evil in the gaze and knowing that this was the first dragon he had ever met that truly struck fear into his heart. It wasn't natural. Ron exhaled sharply and pulled back from the animal suddenly, his blue eyes looking up to meet its own black one and held it, glaring fiercely. Charlie found himself stepping back, not wanting to be caught in that suddenly vehement gaze. It hit him like a slap that this Ron wasn't the same one he had last seen one and a half years ago, and though he knew his brother could only change from everything that he had gone through it was still a shock to see it in the flesh. The giant creature suddenly shuddered and gasped and then its eye clouded and half closed to obscure the darkness within it forever. Ron stared at it for another minute.

"Ron?"

"I have to go." He said suddenly and turned around, stumbling. Charlie reached out and grabbed his arm instinctively, steadying him. After he had steadied himself Ron had carefully but quickly pulled out of the grasp and stepped away from him, heading back to the main group.

"Ron, you can't go! You have to come home." He stiffened like a board at that suggestion but didn't slow down at all, instead ignoring the comment.

"Ron, you just killed two dragons! You're bloody exhausted and can barely stand on yer feet without help, and if you think I'm going to let you run off again you've got another thing coming." He growled as he stalked after his much taller sibling, noting offhandedly how bad his haircut was.

"First off" Ron whirled about and glared at him, "those were not dragons. They were at some point, but they weren't when I killed them. Secondly, you don't have any say in what I do or don't do. Yer my brother, not my keeper; not my owner and defiantly not my master." His glare faltered and became something closer to fear and sadness as he stared at Charlie. "Thirdly, something very bad is going to happen, and it's going to happen soon. Problem is that I don't know where the battle is going to take place, and I can't rest until I find out."

"Battle?" Charlie asked, not following what his brother was saying. "What battle are you talking about? Voldemort is dead, in case you've forgotten, which would be a right stupid thing to do seeing as you're half the reason he's defeated!"

"I haven't forgotten." He muttered and turned away, stalking slowly towards the dragon that was lying in the snow, watching them with sharp, red eyes. "Get back to your headquarters, it's not safe out here right now."

"I am not leaving you." He declared and Ron turned to face him once again, before averting his eyes as though he was shamed.

"I can't hide forever Charlie. I'll come back once I've dealt with this." He gestured lamely towards the carcasses.

"What do you mean once you've dealt with it? You think that because you're a bloody chaneller you have to take on a group of demented dragons? Why? You need to atone for your sins, pay for being born who you are?" He hit a nerve with that and instantly regretted the heated words, despite their truth. He didn't want Ron to go, least of all angry, but he couldn't stop him. "Ron." He pleaded and watched wearily as the dragon smoothly lifted to his feet and stared at Charlie with suspicion.

"It's all happening too fast Charlie, I can't deal with you and with this right now, okay! There is more at stake here then my or your feelings!"

"Where are you going?"

"Forge and I will follow them, find out where they're heading and try to stop them. Lupin should have been back by now; Dumbledore will know there's a problem. Warn your department that there's a dangerous situation about to get out of hand."

"Stop who? The dragons? And what the bloody hell does Lupin have to do with any of this?" Ron didn't answer though, instead he had crawled up onto the back of the dragon and was now sitting at the base of it's neck, just above it's massive wings and Charlie forgot all about what he was planning to say next as he stared in amazement. Riding the back of a dragon, even a tamed one, was a sure way to get killed, and he heard the startled gasps of his friends behind him as they watched.

"Get back to your headquarters Charlie! I don't know if there are more of these creatures out here." And with that the massive creature was lifting off into the air and disappearing over the trees with a speed that belied its size. Charlie stared for long, stunned minutes as he replayed everything that had just happened and then he rushed back to his friends, holding out his wand.

"_Accio Eugene's wand_." He demanded and the long wooden elm flew into his hand from thirty meters away. He handed it to his partner and wondered why they hadn't thought to do that in their desperate battle. "We've got to get back."

"No arguments from me."

"We'll leave our tents, there's no time to fuss about them. We need to report this and I need to get home."

"What did he mean about a battle?"

"I have no bloody idea, he was as skittish as a colt. We'll figure it out though, and have someone come to examine their bodies." He gestured to the dragons that lay so peacefully in the field and looked to Marion, Eugene, and Igor. There was no argument in their eyes and they apparated to the nearest town with a floo network.

00000

Ron held on tightly as Forge cut through the freezing winter air like a rocket, and prayed that he wouldn't perform any fancy rolls while Ron clung to his neck. As it was Ron was finding it difficult to hold on, his body slowly regaining strength after the fight with the evil dragons. The cold wind sliced across his face and back as the front of his body was sweating from the heat of Forge's flesh. Riding the dragon was one hell of a lot less scary then riding a thestral, the main reason being that Ron could see where to hang on, though it was a bit more uncomfortable. Forge's spikes hadn't cut into Ron yet because his jacket, which would later need some more serious repairs, was providing an excellent buffer.

Forge dropped suddenly and Ron felt his stomach rise into his throat before settling back down as the creature levelled out and continued tracking their targets. He shifted, feeling the thick leathery skin warm his hands as he pressed into it, and settled back down for the long flight. Finally feeling secure in his position Ron allowed the few tears he'd been holding at bay to escape. He thanked whatever spirit that deserved it for leading him to Charlie, because if the group had been there any longer then they would have died. Ron remembered how stubborn Charlie was, and he knew for a fact that the man wouldn't leave his friends behind. When Forge had flown over the group of people being attacked by two enormous dragon's, Ron hadn't had to think about his course of action, he just apparated before them and prayed that the beasts would stop their attack. The dark energy within them had immediately surrounded him, making him nauseous, but he had stood his ground.

Leaching the life from the dragon had felt like absorbing fire into his veins, but even as the energy filled him he felt no remorse for its sudden death. He barely had to think as he had raised his other arm and sent all the energy he had just stolen crashing into the charging beast, and the relief at having the darkness removed had been overwhelming, knocking him to his knees. He'd killed two creatures that day, but what he had told his brother had been the absolute truth: they had no longer been dragons. There had not even been a hint of a free spirit within. The massive creatures had been transformed into tools, empty vessels that held no feelings or life within, they only had the ability to absorb and obey instructions. Death, Ron felt, had brought justice to the creatures that they had once been.

He was shaken from his reminiscing as a heavy, icy rain began to fall, coating the both of them in is freezing grasp. Forge didn't seem to notice it, but Ron cuddled closer to the beast, trying to ignore the cold and not feel sick to his stomach from the continuous rise and fall of his ride. He wanted to stop and rest, they had been flying for five hours now, but Forge was having none of it, insisting that they keep going. The dragon felt that they were slowly catching up to the dragons, and that the large, slower moving group's destination would become clearer the further they went.

They had to catch up to them at the very least. When Ron had communicated with the dying mangled dragon within that field, he had caught glimpses of the dark wizard gathering his masses. It was impossible to tell exactly how many of the massive creatures were under the wizard's control, as dragons don't associate by mass but by their connection with other dragons. The one that had perished had been eyeing about five different prospects as mates, had been in altercations of various degrees with about eleven of the gathered army, and was related by blood to three. There were more, Ron knew, but they had never appeared as either a threat or a prospect and had therefore remained unnoticed to the animal.

Thinking on it now, as he tried to distract himself from the cold rain, Ron wondered if this was how so many different breeds of dragon had managed to co-exist in any number of habitats. Without an actual understanding of exactly how many dragons were in a territory, they went about minding their own business, ignoring all that didn't have any significant impact on their lives. It was an odd way of looking at the picture and right now, to Ron, it was utterly useless. For all he knew there could be a hundred dragons moving ahead of them fast approaching their target, and Ron didn't even know whether they were headed north or south. What he did know, however, was that the two dragons he had killed had been left in the mountains to guard them while the majority of the group followed their leaders bidding. There had been a disassociated feeling of revenge within the beast that Ron was certain came from the Dragon Lord (B_loody idiotic name, couldn't he have just been called Richard or something? That way I could call him Dick instead of using his stupid self-imposed title._), and it worried him. The feeling of utter outrage and crushed dreams had echoed in the dragons mind, and Ron felt that, somehow, the wizard had learned of his idol's defeat. He was out to kill.

Ron tried to keep thoughts of his brother at the back of his mind, and he was able to succeed only by concentrating on the rolling of his stomach, his cramped limbs and the almost painful shivering of his entire body. Despite this the image of his brother's face, flushed from the fears of the moment and alight with amazement (not absolute hate and disgust), kept appearing in his mind. Every time he thought of that moment when his brother had hugged him tightly his chest would constrict with such a cacophony of emotions he didn't know how to feel. That had been the first moment since he had woken up in the hospital after the final battle with Voldemort, that he had felt truly safe, even if it had only been a moment. Then reality had crashed in upon him again and he remembered exactly who and where he was, and he had pulled himself away.

He had seen how hurt Charlie had been that he wasn't allowed to touch him again, but Ron knew that if he allowed his older sibling to comfort him, he would be an utterly useless ball of bubbering idiot. He couldn't be that, not then, and probably not ever, so he had tried to hold himself at bay, snapping and focusing on his tasks. Charlie was no doubt at home right now, telling his family of their encounter and describing everything bad that he had seen in Ron. He was probably relating to them how he had become a cold bastard, and that they should be glad he was no longer with them. _Good_ Ron suddenly thought viciously, _it'll be easier on them if they hate me._ With that thought, ignoring the unhappy feelings coming from Forge at his negative thoughts, Ron slipped into a disjointed sleep, jerking awake every few minutes and wondering just where the hell Dick was going, before closing his eyes and seeing images of Charlie being cut in half by the dragon while his dead, black, soulless eyes stared at Ron in hate.

**TBC**

Charlie! He was the reason for my evil laugh! I was just excited about finally including him in the story!

Your reviews were all absolutely wonderful! Thank you! Unfortunately I don't have time to post and must be off. I hope you enjoyed that chapter!

**Next Update:** September 16, 2005


	27. Chapter 27

**Hey! Sorry this one took a bit to get out but I figured you would forgive me if I posted two chapters :) Enjoy!**

**Chapter 27**

Harry Potter was many things to the wizarding world and he had been since the moment his parents had died on that fateful night almost twenty years before. He had struggled through the beginning of his life thinking that nobody cared for him, loved him, or would miss him if he were to die in his sleep locked under the stairs. Ten long years spent in the Dursley's home had shaped his beginning, but they had never curbed his curiosity or dampened his fierce spirits. Then one day he had received a mysterious letter (the first letter he had ever received), and everything had changed for him. Since that time he had spent countless hours wondering exactly what had been best about his new lease on life. Was it the magic? Was it that he was suddenly no longer treated like the mud under a brand new shoe? It hadn't taken him very long to decide that his fame was not a change for the better, and that magic had its definite advantages; it added excitement and adventure into a life he had thought had been destined to serving his fat uncle and bully of a cousin.

But the best change of all, he had realized, was that of friendship. Ron had been his first friend, Ron had been his first brother, Ron had been the first person he would ever truly call family. Hermione had then become his sister, his teacher, his nagging mother, and had snuggled her way into his heart right alongside Ron. He had found the first two people that he could truly rely on (despite all the childish arguments they had throughout their time at Hogwarts) and he had vowed to do what he could to keep them safe.

Over the years, through all that he suffered, he learned that he couldn't control everything, that he couldn't be the hero the world expected alone, and that he didn't ever want to be alone again. The moment he had seen Voldemort standing over Ron, he had known that the evil wizard had to die. There was no doubt left in his mind; there was no longer any anguish over the thought of becoming a murderer. There was absolutely no question. Voldemort had to die, and Harry had to save Ron. Then the table had turned, and when Harry had been absolutely positive that his life, and those of the ones he loved was going to end, he had discovered new strength that wasn't his own. He was a strong wizard, and he knew that he would be one of the strongest, maybe even as powerful (or more so) then Dumbledore, but he had been too young, still too inexperienced. The spell he had cast against his nemesis had been one of pure light and love, everything the dark wizard wasn't, and the strength Ron had given him had made it possible for him to wield the powerful magic to its fullest extent.

Something had changed that day, changed him more profoundly then he had imagined, but it had taken him a long time to realize it. In fact it took him just over a year to discover why he no longer felt exactly the same, and he learned what was different the moment they had stepped into Hogwarts and had seen Madame Pomfrey rushing towards them, her face full of dread. Ron had run away, she said forcefully, and Harry had felt a sudden terror that he couldn't explain. He spun around instantly and went back outside to see if he could find his friend. He didn't know why, and he hadn't been able to explain it at the time, but he had an overwhelming need to go outside. He had watched as the glass had fallen from the top of Gryffindor tower and Ron had flown away on his broom.

Harry had been as good as frozen to the spot, knowing that it was already too late to catch his best friend; that he had been beyond reach the second he had crawled out of the narrow tower window. Since that day Harry had not gone more then a few hours before cursing himself for leaving Ron's bedside. Ron's family, though they denied it and tried to convince themselves that it had been out of their control, also blamed themselves.

It had been exhausting sitting hour after hour by Ron's side; he had been depleting them of their energy without even being aware of what he was doing. This hadn't bothered Harry, he felt that Ron could take as much energy as he needed, it was a fair trade seeing as he was in the hospital for saving Harry's life. Harry had awoken shortly after the attempt to take his life in Hogsmeade; he had found himself surrounded by half the Weasley family, while the other half had been around Ron. He hadn't thought to wonder how the entire (and there was no way the Weasley's could be considered a small family) family had arrived at the school so quickly; he had been overwhelmed with happiness at their presence. Then he learned of what Ron had done, and Dumbledore had explained to them all exactly what it had meant.

Ron was a chaneller. It took a bit of discussion for the information to fully sink in as they all mingled about the youngest Weasley boy's bed and took turns petting him, making sure he was truly there. Harry had known, he had known for a long time, that there was something very different about his best friend, but he hadn't understood until that moment. Everything had just seemed to fall into place: the battle with Voldemort, the way Ron hadn't died when the Barilog had been loosed, how he managed to summon things without a wand (though Harry had believed in Ron's ambidextrous magic for a short while) and, most of all, why he had stopped sleeping so much. It all finally made sense!

Harry had also been feeling a bit out of sorts since the battle; he hadn't exhausted himself thinking about it, but it had bothered him enough to ponder on the nights he couldn't sleep. His emotions would sometimes change without reason, he would be happily eating lunch when suddenly he felt unaccountably anxious, or nervous. Sometimes he even felt panic and fear, and then the emotions would disappear as though they had never been apart of him. He had shrugged them off, ignored them, because what else could he do? He'd started feeling more aware of his surroundings, sometimes (though it wasn't often) he would know who was about to enter a room before they did so. That had scared him a bit, but he hadn't mentioned it to Ron because he knew his friend was having enough trouble adapting to his loss of sixth sense and it would be cruel to throw Harry's feelings in his face. He hadn't mentioned it to Hermione because an opportune moment had never arisen.

Then there had been the moments when he had felt as though he was missing something, as though he was no longer a whole person. It was just a very faint ache in his entire being that he could ignore through distraction before he would suddenly realize that the ache was gone and he couldn't account for where or why it went away. Hormones, he had figured, and shrugged it off.

After everything about Ron's plight had come to their attention and after the shocked denials, then acceptance and worry, they had all sat vigilantly, waiting for Ron to wake up. Harry had sat there along with everyone else and knew that when Ron woke up he was going to get an ear full about keeping secrets from his family, but somehow Harry knew that his best mate wouldn't mind. No, he figured Ron would be too relieved at knowing they didn't hate or fear him to care that they lectured. However, after almost an entire twenty-four hours spent about the hospital wing they were all beginning to drop like flies in the vicinity of a stink bomb. Pomfrey had almost literally kicked them out of her ward, telling them to come back after the quidditch match and not a moment before. If they didn't leave, she argued, they would be so strapped of energy Ron wouldn't get much of a welcoming committee. It was Dumbledore's agreement that had convinced them that they needed a break, so they had _all_ left. That was when everything had gone wrong.

Standing on the ground of Hogwarts, Harry had looked into the sky, not even bothering to summon a broom and join the chase of his best friend, knowing he couldn't catch up. He had been staring intently in the distance, watching as the bodies became smaller and smaller, not even noticing as a crowd of people gathered around him, asking him what was going on. He ignored them, he even ignored Ron's parents as they stepped up beside him and followed his line of sight, gripping each others hands in worry. When Ron apparated Harry had felt it, in fact he had gasped at the suddenly bereft feeling that engulfed him. That part of himself that he sometimes felt he was missing, had just disappeared again, with Ron. Ron, it seemed, had given Harry a part of himself the year before, and every moment Harry wasn't greatly distracted he felt his friends loss heavily; it was a hollow place within him that ached, and it was worse then ever because he had no idea where his friend was.

"_He's gone."_ He had uttered, but he couldn't really explain how he knew as the tears had escaped his impossibly green eyes and he stared at the two remaining dots in the sky. He didn't know when they would get their fiery tempered, lanky, freckled redhead back, but Harry was absolutely adamant that they would. When that happened Harry was going to make sure the redhead never, ever, had cause to disappear again. It just hurt too much.

"Harry?" Hermione called out into the darkness suddenly as she appeared from the dark stairwell off to his right. He had felt her approaching before she had reached him, but he didn't turn around, too busy looking out the window, staring intently at the star speckled sky. He could feel her frown as she stared at him in question. "What are you doing up here? The banquet isn't even a third over and you've already retreated, that won't look very good to the ambassadors." Harry couldn't help a smirk at that.

"Oh Merlin forbid I upset some ambassadors that barely know who I am."

"You know what I mean." She huffed and stepped up beside him, leaning against the wide tower window and looking out. Above them the owls hooted and crooned softly from their perches. "The ministry wants to show you off, which is in fact the only reason we're here." Harry had received the invitation/order to attend this summit at Hogwarts months ago, and he had insisted that Hermione go as well. There were ministry officials from various different countries in the United Kingdom and Europe who had come to England to discuss future politics and the upcoming election for a new minister in England (Fudge wasn't happy about that, and he was even less happy when Harry outright refused to acknowledge him during introductions earlier that evening.). As an acclaimed 'war hero' Harry had been asked to attend, even though it cut into his training as an Auror. In fact political meetings were taking place all week at the ministry building in London, but several ministers had expressed an interest in seeing the illustrious Hogwart's school that Harry had been educated in; that was why they had all gathered to eat amongst the students and staff this evening. This was the first time either he or Hermione had been back to Hogwart's since Ron's disappearance.

"It's strange, being back here." She stated softly, as though reading his mind as she shifted lightly on her heels.

"It's not the same without him." Harry muttered.

"Nothing's the same without him Harry, but we can't dwell on that. He'll be back one day." He nodded silently, and rubbed his stomach a moment in irritation. "Is your stomach still bothering you?"

"Only slightly. I can't figure it out, it's nothing I've eaten and Molly checked to see if I was sick, which I'm not."

"It must just be cramps then."

"Yes I suppose, it's just one of those things us wizards have to suffer through."

"At least it's not once a month."

"Oh, Hermione! Seriously, I don't want to know about that."

"It's a natural state of being Harry you know that, and besides you're the one who brought it up." He pointedly ignored her, not wanting to risk this conversation going any further. Hermione was great, he couldn't imagine life without her, but there were some things men just didn't discuss with girls unless they were seriously dating or married. Honestly. She didn't say anything else, thankfully, but he could sense her smiling at his discomfort and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Instead he continued looking out at the horizon, feeling the need to see as far as he could but not sure why. The dinner had only just begun downstairs with all the ministers and ambassador's seated at their special guest table and surrounded by children, but Harry had felt this nagging to come up to the owlry and search the skyline. He didn't want to go back down to the party where he would be bombarded with questions about how he defeated Voldemort and other such nonsense, he needed to be here.

"What are you doing up here Harry?" Hermione asked again, breaking the silence after what must have been ten minutes.

"I don't know; I just couldn't stand being down there any more."

"I know it's tedious, but you really ought to be there. If it's any consolation Dumbledore wants to meet with us after the meal, we can escape while all the government officials play politely and gossip."

"Thank goodness for small mercies. If I have to sit and put up with Fudge bragging about our accomplishments any longer I just might hex him, irreversibly."

"Are you learning irreversibles now? How exciting! It is funny how undeterred Fudge is by your blatant disapproval of him."

"Well, considering that Dumbledore has been giving him the cold shoulder ever since he threatened Ron I suppose he has a lot of practice with being ignored."

"Not as much as he needs, stupid git." Harry grinned at the fierceness in her tone, and threw his arm affectionately over her shoulder. Over the last year and a half Hermione had (with a sneakiness very unbecoming of her) been investigating into Fudge's past _questionable_ dealings within the ministry and slowly leaking the information to the public. She had only confided her rebellious acts to Harry, but he was pretty sure that Snape and McGonagall had recognized her haughty writing style within the Daily Prophets _anonymous_ section. The fact that Severus Snape had actually smiled thinly (and rather painfully) upon their arrival that afternoon was enough to show his approval.

"Come on." Harry sighed, beginning to feel the cold of the tower seep under his dress robes. "Let's get back to the party." He looked uneasily out the window one last time before steering Hermione to the door and they headed back down the familiar stairs to the Great Hall. He was glad she could come to the summit, because he really hadn't wanted to come back here alone.

"You've been awfully jumpy all night Harry. Have the twins threatened to embarrass you somehow?"

"Not since last Sunday, mind you Molly overheard and I doubt they'll risk anything until at least another week has past."

"So what's bothering you?"

"I don't know." He answered truthfully, seeing no reason to lie as Hermione had picked up on his agitation. "I've been feeling a bit on edge these last few days, maybe even since my stomach started to hurt."

"There's no reason to be on edge." She said, frowning. He could practically hear the gears in her mind turning the problem over, trying to think of reasons for his feelings when even he couldn't make heads or tails of them.

"I know that Hermione, but I can't help how I feel can I?"

"No, I suppose not. Do you think it's a premonition?" He laughed out loud at that, though he tried to stifle it as she lightly elbowed him in the side. "I'm being serious Harry."

"No Hermione, it's not a premonition. I haven't had visions of any sort since Voldemort died." He felt her shudder slightly under his arm but ignored it, knowing she was remembering the final battle.

"Ah, there you are Sir Potter." A friendly voice interrupted his thoughts and he looked up to see the corporeal body of Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington slip through the ceiling and float down to meet them. Harry blinked at the title but didn't question the ghost as he smiled, looking between them. "Ah, sorry to interrupt your little romantic stroll, but I do believe I heard the Ministergrumbling about your absence." Hermione lifted her chin and stepped out from under Harry's arm, her red and gold embroidered robes flaring perfectly with her every movement.

"Harry and I are not on a romantic stroll Sir Nicholas."

"Of course not Miss Granger, it was impolite to jump to such conclusions." His eyes twinkled merrily and he winked at Harry, who grinned back cheekily. "However, I say you two should probably head back to the great hall, especially as Peeves left there about ten minutes ago and is no doubt looking for victims." The resident ghost of Gryffindor tower stated with bored certainty before smiling brightly again and bidding them farewell. His apparition floated on down the stone corridor towards the dining hall ahead of them, and Hermione glared at Harry.

"What?"

"You know what Harry Potter. It's rude to mislead people."

"I didn't say anything." He defended, as they started walking once more, their footsteps echoing loudly.

"That's beside the point."

"He isn't even a person." Harry exclaimed.

"He was once Harry! And he still has all the emotions of one." She tried to keep a straight face before grinning slightly and shaking her head. "Victor won't be happy if this news gets into the paper." Victor Krum was Hermione's current beau, and had been for over half the year, but he still tended to get a bit green when people joked about Harry and Hermione being a couple.

"I doubt the paper would care about our current relationship with this summit going on."

"Harry, the paper cares about anything that has your name in it."

"True." He agreed and they entered the loud and cheerfully decorated great hall. Harry instantly looked to the head table, as he had his entire life at Hogwarts, and nodded at Dumbledore and McGonagall who were smiling in his direction. Then he let his eyes drift briefly across the Slytherin table before he remembered that they weren't actually students anymore, and therefore Malfoy wouldn't need to be scouted out.

"You know." Harry said, looking over to the Gryffindor table and recognizing a lot of the younger students. "Being here doesn't necessarily mean we need to be with the ministry." Hermione looked at him, looked over at the Gryffindor table and together they went and sat down in between two very surprised seventh years. It wasn't the same, Harry reflected again, but it was nice to see the familiar faces.

They had been sitting for half an hour, stoutly ignoring the glares that Minister Fudge was sending their way, and happily listening to recounts of the last quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin, when Harry felt it. He jerked slightly in his seat and sat straighter, an intense look overcoming his face, and even though most at the table didn't notice his sudden inattention, Hermione did.

"What is it?" She muttered softly into his ear, following Harry's gaze and looking over to the door. He didn't answer her as he continued to stare unseeingly, feeling the slight perspiration gather at his brow as he sat in shock and disbelief, wondering if what he was feeling was true or if he was simply beginning to lose his mind; because a few moments before something inside him had shifted, and clicked back into place. His instinct was telling him that only Ron's presence would cause such a change within.

"Harry?" She squeezed his arm gently, trying to call him back, and he shivered a moment and broke his stare, turning back to her. "What is it Harry?" Her tone was soft, but commanding and he felt compelled to answer.

"I'm not positive Hermione, but I think…I think Ron's here."

"What?" She yelped, surprising a few students out of their conversation a moment before they went back to talking quidditch. It was funny how, even after two years of being absent, the students found it so easy to adapt to the oddities of Harry and his friends. Hermione sat up straighter and looked around the room quickly before turning back to Harry. "Harry, I don't think Ron's here…"

"No, not in here, but here! He's close by Hermione! We've got to go and find him." By now the tension and the sudden excitement at possibly seeing his best friend again was coursing through his body and making his hands shake, but Hermione was looking at him with worry and her hand was gripping his arm securely.

"Harry, he's not here, this is the last place he's likely to show up at." She tried to convince him, worry igniting in her eyes like it had on those various evenings when Harry had locked himself in his flat to polish off a bottle of firewhisky and blame himself for his friend's absence. He looked at her now and tried to convey as much rationality as he could in his eyes.

"Hermione, trust me when I say I'd know if Ron was around."

"Ron?" Piped in a seventh year girl with dreamy dark chocolate coloured eyes and shiny brown hair. "I was wondering if he would turn up tonight, you three hardly went anywhere without the other. You say he's coming?" Harry ignored her, staring at Hermione and trying to convey that he hadn't lost his marbles. She searched his eyes a moment and then exhaled, nodding.

"Fine, I believe you." She didn't release his arm but looked back out among the crowd, glancing briefly at the head table to see if any of them knew what was going on. Harry saw that they were all happily enjoying their feast and laughing together as though everything was perfectly fine, which struck him as odd considering how his own life had just changed so suddenly. He glanced back at the door then, as the familiar aura of his long lost best friend became stronger and stronger and then, quietly, the great door slid open a bit and a lone figure, unnoticed by most, slipped quietly into the room.

**TBC**


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

"Ron." Harry muttered, and moved to stand when Hermione's grip tightened to the point of bruising and she leaned over to him.

"Wait Harry. He's here for a reason, who knows how he'll react if he sees us."

"He's my best friend Hermione! I've got to go and-"

"No Harry. Wait." Harry glared at her angrily and barely resisted the urge to roughly tear his arm from her grasp. Then he remembered how Hermione, after everything they had all been through, would be the last person to lead him astray. So he remained seated where he was and focused intently on the figure who had just closed the door lightly and paused, as though suddenly completely unsure of what to do. "Are you sure it's him?" She hissed, staring just as keenly as Harry and he nodded affirmative.

The figure, Ron, was covered from head to toe in a long brown, mangled jacket that almost reached to the floor. It had a hood that was pulled up over his head, hiding the face beneath it because Ron was intent on looking down at the floor. He was taller then Harry remembered, even with his shoulders slumped in uncertainty, and he desperately wanted to see his friends face, just to have absolute assurance that it was in fact him. Then Ron began to move to the front of the great hall, directly towards the staff table, passing right by Harry and Hermione without a glance at any of the Gryffindor's.

By this time the sound in the hall had dwindled down as students and faculty alike had noticed this new and rather imposing character, whose walk was only heard because of the swishing of his dampened jacket. He was at the head table in no time at all, his long legs (hidden by the torn jacket) eating up the distance easily.

"Who's this guy?" A student down the table asked quietly, looking around. Harry ignored the gazes that looked to him for an answer, choosing instead to stare at his friend. He walked stiffly, Harry had noticed, and he had hugged his torso a moment before dropping his arms to his side to show he was unarmed. Snape was glaring at him suspiciously while most of the other teachers present looked on in curiosity. This wasn't the first time a stranger had entered the great hall unannounced, but the fact that he had been omitted into the school without anyone noticing was cause for concern. Ron kept his head bowed as he walked right in front of Dumbledore, stopped and mumbled quietly. There was, Harry realized, a garble spell in place, no doubt by the headmaster himself, so that the students wouldn't understand what was going on and he glared with frustration. He moved to get up again but Hermione pulled him down.

"Wait." She hissed, and though he felt wound as tight as a spring he forced himself to still, calling on his minimal Auror training and patience. A moment later when Ron looked up and the suddenly shocked professors began to look concerned, Fudge made to stand; he froze before he even pushed up from his seat. Harry, who was used to being aware of his surroundings despite his target of attention, saw the movement out of the corner of his eye and was puzzled when the minister suddenly refrained from interrupting the intense conversation. Then he saw Snape casually tuck his wand back up his sleeve and turn back to the conversation with a threatening glint in his eye, staring at Ron with full attention. It was a full minute more, interspersed with dramatic hand gestures and intense questions before Ron turned and began heading straight back to the door, his head bowed once again, obscuring his face. Then he was gone. Just like that. The great Hall erupted in excited conversation and Harry leapt to his feet, suddenly panicked as he had lost sight of Ron.

"Harry!" Hermione yelled as she leapt up with him and they rushed away from the table to follow the footsteps of their friend.

"I'm not letting him leave again." He growled as he stormed his way up the isle, oblivious to the startled gazes he was receiving and not noticing how several students leaned closer to the table to avoid being in his way. He was almost at the door when Dumbledore's powerful voice called out over the great hall, stopping all chatter in an instant.

"Mr. Potter, I would bid you come and speak with us a moment before rushing out to greet your friend." Harry slowed but he didn't stop as he was almost at the door.

"I'm sorry Headmaster, but this is a matter I have to attend to."

"Indeed it is Harry, but wait until the moment is right. Rushing into things may cause more harm then good." That stopped him dead in his tracks as he vividly recalled the night he had rushed out to save Sirius, not knowing it had been a trap. His intentions had resulted in the death of his godfather. He whirled about and glared angrily at Dumbledore, making sure the threat was in his eyes, but the wise wizard merely smiled at him kindly.

"I won't let him disappear again." He all but growled, to the shock of most in the room. Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder but he barely felt it.

"He will be outside, trust me. He is not going anywhere tonight." Harry stared at him a moment, and then nodded. He changed direction and marched up to the staff table with just as much energy as he had been heading to the door. When he stopped he stood to the side and waited, for he knew that something very serious was taking place and it would only be moments before the powerful headmaster announced his intentions. He waited barely two seconds before Dumbledore addressed the entire room.

"It has come to our attention that a threat is upon our school. I will ask that you all remain calm and listen to me carefully a moment. Prefects, you will take your houses to the dungeons at once. There is plenty of room down there for all of our students. Do not be alarmed, the dungeons are the safest place to be at the moment. Headboy and Girl, I want you to check that all students are safely escorted and not lingering anywhere else in the school, make sure we have no stragglers if you will." Dumbledore turned and looked at the assembled group of guests. They were quite the group, some looking ready for any threat while others seemed to almost cower in uncertainty at the situation. Fudge looked outraged at not being informed of why all these decisions were being made without his consent.

"Ministers and officials, I will have to ask that you accompany the students to the dungeons. I will rely on you to keep them safe." The unspoken acknowledgement that Dumbledore's defences might fail seemed to startle the entire school, a suddenly nervous and frightened energy engulfed the room, but nobody panicked yet.

"Headmaster, I hardly see why…"

"I'm sorry minister Fudge, but this applies to you as well. Hogwarts is under my jurisdiction only, and I'm afraid that the safest place for you will be with the children." Fudge looked nervously at the students seated throughout the large room but said nothing more. "Now, if you will all follow my instructions please, a teacher will come and let you know when it is safe to go back to your dormitories." The prefects stood and herded their tables out the door one at a time, doing their best to reassure the younger children and to quiet the unsettled conversation of the older students. Filch appeared by the door and glared at them as they quickly strode by, his cat, Mrs. Norris, was nowhere in sight. Harry turned sharply to address the teachers, who had moved from their chairs as one and were gathering around the Headmaster.

"What is going on and why can't I see _my_ best friend." Harry demanded, his voice deceptively calm for the anger and agitation he was feeling. Dumbledore turned to him then, his eyes very serious.

"This is a very hard time for you Harry, and I understand that, but you must realize that these last few years have not been kind to our dear Mr. Weasley, not kind at all. Right now he has broken his solitude to warn us of an attack that will take place very soon, and I fear that him knowing you are here will distract him from this battle."

"Battle?" Harry demanded, not liking what he was hearing at all.

"It appears that an associate of Voldemort's has been preparing a secret army these last few years, one that none of us had imagined possible. This wizard has recently learned that his leader has fallen, and he has decided to exact his revenge where he has learned it will do most harm. I am assuming Hogwarts is his target because we currently have so many powerful leaders gathered here at this time."

"We can't possibly fight off an army of dragons, we'd be best to hide in the dungeons with the rest of the lot." Severus hissed even as he clenched and unclenched the wand in his fist, preparing for a fight.

"That might be true, but I will not stand for the children of this establishment to suffer the evils that approach us, not when we can stop it."

"There's no time for reinforcements, we need to head to the roof now so we can await their approach. I'll gather as many brooms from the shed that I can." And with that McGonagall twirled in her majestic emerald green robes and disappeared quickly out one of the halls side doors.

"I'll see if there are any potions that might be of use." Snape bustled off in the other direction, his mood as black as his cape.

"Well, I suppose I'll accompany you to the roof then." Flitwick announced strongly, though he looked nervous and a bit pale.

"I'll join you." Remus Lupin announced and Harry whirled around in surprise to stare at his friend who had also been missing these last few months. Remus was as pale as always, and he looked harried and tired, as though he had spent the last day traveling.

"We'll be glad to have you." Dumbledore announced and as one they left the great hall and headed to the winding stairway that would lead to the castle's large roof. Harry found that he had never been down the few hallways they took to get to the secret staircase, but that fact was at the back of his mind as he tried to fully understand what was happening.

The castle was under attack and Ron had somehow known about this and had come specifically to warn them. Dumbledore had promised that Ron wasn't leaving again that night, so he must be somewhere on the school grounds, waiting for the dragons to come. It wasn't how he had planned on spending his Thursday evening, but the prospect of having his friend back made him glad it was happening. What were a few dragons anyway? Harry had managed to get by one in his fifth year, and Charlie and the other dragon workers hadn't had too much difficulty with them. He was beginning to feel confident that they would win this battle even before he had breached the door leading to the frigid roof. That was until Hermione decided to speak up.

"If this was just a few dragons you wouldn't be so worried."

"You're right of course." Dumbledore answered, not even winded by the long tunnel of stairs they were racing up. "Young master Ronald was very specific in stating that these dragons are no longer natural beasts of the mountains, but have become something much more sinister. Magic is not as strong when dealing with them, and basic curses do not affect them. We will need to use all of our strength and cunning this night." With those grave words they pushed through a heavy wooden door and stepped out under the cloudy night and into the icy drizzle. Harry pushed forward to the lip of the roof, noticing immediately that it stretched a lot further then he had originally thought. It was at least half the length of the quidditch pitch. Looking around he noted that the far corners were doted with a cluster of old gargoyles, while there were single gargoyles spread every four meters or so. Several stone shack like buildings protruded across the expanse, and there was a wall good distance away that he couldn't see behind, but other then that it provided very little protection.

"We need to meet them further from the school." Harry stated, unhappy with the conditions that surrounded them.

"Indeed, but the school is their target and we don't know how many will be attacking. We could stop a few if we were to meet them halfway, but many would pass us by and arrive here unhindered with no one to stand in their way. At this height we will be able to understand more of what we are dealing with and take the appropriate actions." Harry didn't like this explanation at all, he didn't want to be stuck on the rooftop; he wanted to be out there with Ron, helping him.

"Where's Ron?"

"I'm afraid that I do not know. He left without telling me where he was going." Dumbledore stepped up beside Harry and looked over the edge into the distance a moment before turning back to the group. McGonagall had landed and was passing brooms around with a face filled with determination. Harry took a school broom and laid it along the wall until he needed it. Snape was just coming through the door, slightly out of breath from running, but he still managed his ever-present air of irritation. Professor Flitwick was almost lost among all of them as he was so short. The defence against the dark arts teacher, a heavier man in his mid forty's who had a red cheeks and jolly features, was standing stonily beside Hermione, his wand at the ready. Lupin was gazing out at the horizon as though he knew exactly what he was looking for, and Hermione had pulled her hair back into a pony tail and had broken the heels off of her elegant shoes.

Madame Pomfrey was there, but she was ordered to stay close to the stairs. She would deal with the wounded as they came. Madame Hooch had rolled up her lavender sleeves and gripped her wand with an air of readiness that she had so often held when refereeing quidditch matches. They were all, with the exception of Lupin, dressed in their formal dress robes. Hagrid had gone down to his hut, intent on gathering what tools he could use to fight, seeing as he couldn't really use magic. Hopefully he was gathering some of his more dangerous creatures to help as well, though in all likelihood they would probably attack the people instead of the dragons. And then, to complete the group, were two minister's of different height but with surprisingly similar facial features who had decided to follow them up the stairs regardless of Dumbledore's orders. One was Irish, and the other taller one was from the Netherlands if Harry remembered correctly.

They all stood a moment in utter silence and looked upon each other, a heavy sense of foreboding and comradeship filling the air. This, Harry thought offhandedly, is how he had imagined the final battle with Voldemort would be: everyone standing together and waiting for the attack as though it was never going to come. The fear they felt was pushed far back in their hearts because fear, at a time like this, muddled the mind and slowed ones reflexes. Harry wasn't sure whether it was worse to know that you were possibly about to die and have time to prepare for it, or if he preferred to be thrust into the thick of it without a moments notice. The battle with Voldemort had been spontaneous, and it had ended as well as it could. Perhaps time to prepare would work in their favour as well.

"I thank you all for your bravery on this night. It is much to ask to lay down your lives for that of others." Dumbledore's voice rasped deeply, icy clouds forming in the air with his every breath as he looked at each of them. "Such acts of courage shall never be forgotten, nor wasted." With that he dispatched them in groups to different areas along the roof in order to spread their defence, and then he stood alone with Harry. Together they looked out upon the dark horizon, and waited.

**TBC**

Well, there's not much left now! I hope that was a good little Hermione and Harry interlude for those of you who requested our favourite bushy haired know-it-all! She's great, but as I said before I can only place so many characters in the story and unfortunately I don't _feel_ her when I write, so I try to avoid ruining her character ;)

Scribhneoir, I love hearing which lines you enjoy and the reasoning. It's often the shortest lines that carry the characters so far. I'm glad the perspective change worked well. As you're probably aware it's difficult to shift from one characterization to another and make it work. I often find that, when attempting this, the characters personalities blend together and loose their individualization. Does that make sense?

Saqutcheway, no I'm not trying to kill you or any other wonderful people reading this story (though you're not the first to accuse me of it). As for thinking this might have turned into a slash fic: It is a _friendship_ based fiction and that was my intent from the start, though I have to admit that there are scenes in this story which (for those who want to) can be manipulated to suit their own interests. I have nothing against slash and find all genres interesting as long as they are written well, but I hold to the fact that this story is based on Friendship.

Harry Lvr, you're awesome, though as far as hinting for more Charlie goes...well, the story is complete and you're just going to have to see what happens :) ha ha. I, however, am delighting in everybody's anticipation. Ha ha. Ohhh, I'm probably in trouble for mocking you all now. Oh, and what did I tell you in chapter 3? Was it the werewolf thing? Or the apparating? I'll have you know I do nothing on purpose and everything for a reason. And you can write as much as you want in your reviews. Reviews make me happy :)

Madam Whitbrook, thank you.

Joruby, than you for not harming Harry Lvr. I don't know how I'd cope with her loss. Sorry it took so long to post this, but it's still the 16th and that damn life thing got in the way :)

Well, both chapters were short, but there were two of them. I hope you enjoyed it! I hope you're enjoying the wait even more! Mwa haaaaaaa ha…cough.

Your reviews have been terrific. Thank you.

**Next Update**: Monday 19, 2005


	29. Chapter 29

**Another double chapter update…but this is because I promised longer chapters some time ago, and alone these are just too short. Enjoy.**

**Chapter 29**

_I wish I had my bloody wand!_ Ron thought angrily, roughly pushing his red bangs away from his eyes. Why didn't he cut his hair last week when he had thought about it? Sitting perched on his broom (glad that this was one of the magical items that didn't require the use of a wand to operate) and staring out through the dark, he dreaded the moment he saw anything looming and prayed that he was wrong about the Dragon Lord's intent. He would be ecstatic to know that the school was in fact safe and that he had once again been a complete idiot, but deep down he knew that that was not the case. Why did he suddenly have to start being right about things?

The broom he rode shifted slightly under a sudden gust of wind but Ron controlled it easily. Even after two years of not riding one and the fact that it was a school broom (which were notorious for being in horrid shape), he was still able to control it with little thought. On his way out of the warm and familiar castle he had detoured directly to the first years flying supply shed, intent on obtaining one of its copious tools. It had been warded against tampering of course, the teachers at Hogwarts were not daft, but they had apparently assumed that locking wards were the only thing needed to keep students out. Ron didn't even pause as he lifted his foot and kicked with all his strength at the lock. Four kicks and a sore foot later the door had smashed inward and he had snagged the closest broom to him and taken to the sky. He didn't think McGonagall would mind, but if she did it wasn't as though she could deduct house points from him.

Ron had no idea where Forge was at that time seeing as he had apparated to the Forbidden Forest about an hour after they had reached land. Scotland, being where Hogwarts was located, was at the opposite end of the continent and Ron had no idea how long it would take to fly there; it had already taken them too much time to fly this far. He'd clambered his way through the dense foliage while cursing at his stiff limbs to work properly. After alerting Dumbledore to the potential disaster and doing his best to ignore everyone else around him (including the absolutely delicious aroma's of the feast) he had found himself without a dragon, and therefore with no means to get into the sky. Flying a broom was ten times better then flying a dragon…or sitting on a dragon's spiny back as they flew you wherever they felt was necessary. Ron had spent so much time leaning against his dragon's back that he was sure he had indentation marks along his entire torso from the beast's spikes. His jacket was completely shredded all down the front and the only reason he didn't throw the damp material away yet was because it was the only thing keeping the cold wind from tearing at his skin. That was something at least.

After leaving his brother Ron had been stuck to Forge like glue all day and night, until the next mornings light had broken across the sky. It hadn't been a beautiful sunrise to experience seeing as clouds blanketed the sky and didn't let a single unhindered beam of light touch the earth. It was after this that Forge had decided he needed a rest. Half an hour later they were back in the air, following the path the dragon was certain their quarry was on. By mid-morning they reached the west coast and, amazingly, stumbled upon a group of older dragons that needed more rest before following their leader and comrades across the sea. The interesting thing about their rest spot, secluded by rocky outcrops and forests, was that it looked as though more then just the old stragglers had stopped there.

Ron had stiffly and ungracefully slid off Forge and crept about the rocks, avoiding the large piles of dung and wishing he had a nose plug as he picked his way around. He came upon the remnants of a fire and couldn't help grinning fiercely as he realized what it was. The Dragon Lord had needed to stop so they could rest before crossing the sea, and this had been his camping place. They must have spent the entire night here. Ron kicked at the soggy logs and ashes and looked out across the area to see if there was anything informative he needed to see.

He was just turning away as something on the ground caught his eye and he squatted next to the ash pile and carefully moved a burnt log out of the way. It was a soggy piece of newspaper that ripped even as he carefully picked it up. It was burnt and in a language Ron didn't understand, but the headline and a few emboldened words caught his attention immediatly. They read: Hogwarts, Summit, Voldemort, and there was a picture of several important looking individuals shaking hands on the cover (though most of the picture was missing and it looked like floating arms were randomly greeting the official looking people).

Hogwarts, Summit, and Voldemort. Ron had long held the belief that he was no good at riddles, but this one became clear in his mind instantly. The insane Voldemort worshiping wizard had discovered that Mortie had been obliterated, and now he wanted revenge. What better place then Hogwarts, especially since there seemed to be some kind of important meeting taking place there. He could mangle the wizarding world's political security, kill a bunch of innocents, and get revenge on those that had been mostly responsible for Mortie's deaths. Ron had abruptly dropped the ruined paper and sprinted back to Forge without caring if the dragons hidden down the beach would hear him. In moments they were flying in a mad dash out over the ocean, the waves swelling and crashing below them and Ron in a panic that he would be too late and all the innocent people, all those young children, would be torn apart.

Now, perched on his broom above the shrieking shack, seeing the lights of the school behind him but knowing they couldn't see him in the darkness, he was beyond thankful that Forge was so fast. It was no doubt easier to travel when you didn't have to worry about crashing into other dragons, but the speed they had made had been fantastic. Ron had closed his eyes for most of it, but that didn't mean he wasn't impressed. Forge must have been built for speed in the dragon world, maybe that was why he was smaller then many.

His hands were numb from the cold and if it wasn't for Whip's warm presence curling around his right hand and arm he was sure he'd be having more difficulty holding onto the broom. He contemplated pulling his hood over his head again to block the slight wind and hopefully stop his drizzle dampened hair from freezing, but he made no move for the extra protection. The hood blocked most of his vision, only allowing him to see straight ahead. It was for this reason he preferred his woollen cap, but he had left that, along with his scarf and gloves, at his shelter when Forge had urgently demanded his attention the day before. It hadn't mattered so much during the trip seeing as Forge was a furnace in himself, but now it would have been a nice bit of extra comfort.

He frowned at himself for having such useless thoughts and sat straighter on the broom, pulling his torn jacket tightly about him. Extra comfort wasn't something he really allowed himself anymore, so there was no use in complaining. Besides, he'd be warm enough when the fire breathing monsters finally arrived. Feeling compelled he leaned forward and sent his broom off over the forbidden forest heading towards the deeper areas; the areas where dark creatures such as Argog (he pressed his lips tightly as he remembered what that horrid, furry, creepy, disgusting monster looked like) resided. He swooped low over the shadowy tree tops keeping an eye out for anything that might jump out and grab him. The energies coming from the forest were becoming heavier and heavier the further he went until he felt as though he had slammed into a solid wall. He swerved away and hovered mid air several meters back from where the oppressive dark energy had slammed into him and fought to catch his breath. He hadn't been prepared for that surprise.

Swallowing firmly, forcing back the bile that threatened to rise, he edged forward at a turtles pace, creeping up to and past the point that had just stopped him in his tracks. Now that he was prepared for the oppressive energy he could approach it slowly, though he hoped it wouldn't become any worse, seeing as it was difficult enough to concentrate and not fly off whimpering as it was. _Come on Weasley, you've been through shadier energies then this, just remember Voldemort_! His pep talk didn't make him feel any better, but a moment later he found what was causing the strange, dark energies swirling around him. There was a clearing (he hovered right over a tree and wondered if he'd be better off just sitting in its top branches) and every minute or so a short flash of light would flare into existence, illuminating the area. The fire breathing dragons were unable to control all of their exhales as they stood, sat, and lay around on the now trampled ground. _Oh Merlin, there are a lot of soulless creatures down there_ he thought in a slightly panicking mind.

There were at least thirty! He stared intently down at the group, waiting for the puffs of fire to enlighten the area and count how many dragons were gathered. It looked like thirty-five, give or take a few. He backed away just as slowly as he had approached and then turned around sharply, heading back to the school as fast as the broom would allow, which wasn't as fast as he would have liked but it would do. Thirty-five dragons….they could handle this! They could! It really wasn't that many, just so long as they could actually curse them. Charlie and his friends hadn't been having any luck with their defensive skills, but that was okay because they had Dumbledore and he should be able to do something. Oh he hoped that the great wizard could do something, because Ron wasn't sure how they could survive this battle.

"Harry mate, it looks like I might be joining you soon enough." He muttered darkly as he began thinking about how to stop the battle. It wasn't long before he could see the lights of Hogwarts and was passing over the massive lake. They would be on the roof top and they needed to formulate some sort of plan and quick. He sharply adjusted his height, flew around the same tower he had jumped from two years before, and then landed on the center of the roof top…or at least he tried to land. He had forgotten that when traveling at high speeds one simply did not just stop. _Stupid wanker_. He hurriedly pulled himself to his feet, not having time to be embarrassed and headed straight to the Headmaster, who was standing alone across the castle top and watching him intently. There was absolutely none of that merriment twinkling in his eyes that Ron had grown up with. This was not the time for joking.

"There's thirty-five of them waiting in the forest." He stated as he stopped four feet from the wizard. Dumbledore made absolutely no move to step closer, for which Ron was eternally grateful; he was to wound up right now to worry about whether he could truly trust those around him to get close enough to touch. Instead the wizened wizard looked off to a group of people across the roof and nodded at them. Ron shifted uneasily on his feet as he watched them take into the air on brooms and head off towards the lake.

"They will provide the first wave of defence, which will hopefully distract our foe's enough to surprise them with a second attack."

"I hope you have more of a plan then simply charging in head first." Ron exclaimed, the knot of worry that had been cramping his stomach for hours now tightened as his trained eyes watched the small group of wizards and witch's stop and hover in the distance, far separated from each other.

"We are more prepared then your brother and his colleague's were for these creatures thanks to your courageous efforts to warn us." Ron didn't allow the praise to sink into his racing mind he was so focused on his worry. All he heard and acknowledged was that they had some sort of plan, even if he had no idea what it was. He was confident that Dumbledore would be able to do something, and Ron knew for a fact that most professors of Hogwarts were not ones to be taken lightly. However, they had never had to face such a massive and violent army before…at least not that he knew of. He suddenly thought of how absurd this entire situation was and he resisted the urge to laugh out loud, as it might make him appear crazy (which he very well might be at this point).

Couldn't anything ever happen on a small scale in the wizarding world, or even in his own life? Why did almost everything of importance situate around scenarios of life and death? How did he end up leaving Hogwarts as a fugitive, loosing everything that had ever been important to him, become a prisoner, live the life of a hermit, befriend two fairies and a dragon and then end up back at Hogwarts for a battle to save it? Fate, it seemed, had a sense of irony. If he survived this he would be carted off to Azkaban (or some special lockup in the basement of London's ministry building), the very thing he had been afraid of from the beginning, and he no longer cared. It didn't seem to matter any more, nothing really did, except that they had to win this battle and they had to save the students.

He hadn't used magic in two years (though he had greatly missed it the entire time) but it would have made him feel one hell of a lot better to have his wand. He didn't voice his concern to Dumbledore, nor comment on the wizard's words. It was odd to suddenly be in the man's presence again, feeling the energy crackling in the air around him. He had never noticed before exactly how much power resided in him, simply standing next to him now made the hair on his neck stand on end. He peaked a side-glance at the unyielding stance of the headmaster, noting that his long white beard seemed to have grown a little more but the normally grinning cheeks seemed slightly sunken and were rose coloured due to the frigid air. Ron couldn't see his right arm, but he could envision the wand that was held lightly in it, relaxed and prepared for battle. Dumbledore had seen many battles, and Ron hoped this wouldn't be his last.

He looked back out over the castle wall and spotted the distant shadows suddenly looming in the darkened sky. He sucked in a single breath of fear, and then forced himself to push his emotions aside. The only feeling remaining was one of intense concentration and a slight tingling in his hands that he clenched into tight fists.

"Headmaster, they're coming." Though the headmaster couldn't see that far into the darkness he didn't question his young companion's insight and nodded once in response. Silently he sent a magical warning out to prepare everyone and then he stood still once again. Together they watched as the shadows turned into shapes, growing closer and closer.

**TBC**

On to the next chapter!


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

Harry perched lightly on the school issue broom, subconsciously noting and categorizing all the differences it had from his precious firebolt (which he would much rather be riding under the circumstances). It stopped sluggishly and tended to pull to the left when he loosened his grip at high speeds, but Harry was a natural when it came to broom flight and he didn't have to exert energy thinking about adjusting his normal style to suite the new tool. He was hovering silently over Hagrid's hut, his sharp seeker eyes watching the dark distance carefully for any form of movement. His muscles, strong from long hours of quidditch and Auror training, were tense and he felt a headache forming at the base of his skull, which he ignored.

He had taken off with the two visiting ministers, Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape, to provide the first defence against the creatures, but it had been difficult to leave the schools roof, as it meant he would be further away from his best mate. Harry hadn't been able to help flinching in reaction to Ron's clumsy landing as the heavy coated red head had slid to a rough stop on Hogwarts wet roof and then jumped up as though nothing had happened, heading directly for Dumbledore. Harry was well aware of Ron's many moments of brilliant grace and agility, but it was also interspersed regularly with a clumsiness that was innately Ron, and that clumsiness tended to become exaggerated the more exhausted his friend would get. Despite the fact that he knew Ron was a chaneller and could simply absorb extra energy from his surroundings, he was also aware that there was a point where even that energy could no longer sustain him as he needed. While Snape had been frowning unimpressed at the lumbering appearance, the action had spoken to Harry of his friend's fatigue.

The potions master in question was currently off with Professor McGonagall, waiting near the edge of the lake while the two ministers had paired off and were spread on Harry's right. Harry, being the best flyer and strongest wizard of the group (despite the doubtful and concerned glances the ministers sent his way) was set to fight alone at the start of this battle, which suited him just fine. Alone he would be able to take off and help anyone without needing to worry about watching a specific person's back.

Over the last two years it had been discovered that he worked better alone then with a partner, despite all the other trainee aurors that the ministry had tried to match him with. The only person that he felt comfortable working with (even though he fully trusted the abilities of his colleagues) was Hermione; seeing as she was currently training in both the Mysteries Research department and for the Magical Investigations and Inquiry department she had no time to even contemplate work as an auror.

Despite being uncomfortable with continuously working with a partner Harry was able to work with others on short term bases. It was this reason, and the simple fact that he was Harry Potter (which many people continued to remind him of as they stared openly, asked for autographs, and talked loudly about how wonderful he was to try and get his attention) that he was allotted the special capacity to train as a lone auror. The fact that he had so vigorously thrown himself into training the first summer after Ron had left had also impressed his seniors, so they didn't complain too much about his insistence of not being partnered off. Of course, the reason Harry had almost run himself ragged training to become the best auror he could be, was so that he could be released into the field and search for Ron in an official capacity that much sooner.

It hadn't worked out that way though, as the ministry (who was blessedly unaware of Ron's power) had different ideas for Harry's assignments and he had been placed on many investigations that involved rounding up the last of the Death Eaters and investigating minor robberies around London's wizard residences. Harry had then used his time off to join Ron's family in their search, until they could no longer put their full effort into it as life had to go on. In two weeks time the twins had been planning on closing their shop (which was doing very well for such a young business) for five days to launch a search in Spain, as Hermione had let slip that a large number of hunters, hikers, and tourists had mentioned feeling sudden bouts of weakness in a forest near Seville. It looked like they could cancel the trip, now all Harry had to do was ensure that Ron and everyone else survived this battle.

He shuddered slightly in the cold air, his dress robes not meant to be outside for long bouts of time, but he had long ago grown accustomed to discomfort and was able to ignore the chill.

He started as the broom began to vibrate slightly under his palms for a moment before becoming still again, and he shifted the wand in his hand to a firmer grip. The dragons were coming. Harry felt anger swell in his chest as he gazed piercingly into the distance, trying to see their attackers. To think that someone would attack a school out of vengeance and that they would somehow take over dragons to do the despicable deed allowed his rage to boil within. He had only ever felt this aware for battle once before, and that had been the day Voldemort had died. He would not allow these creatures to harm his friends!

Gripping his broom he saw the first shadow approaching at a fair distance over the forest, and then several more appeared along with it. He waited, trying to calm his haggard, angry breathing. He couldn't just fly out there and attack. Dumbledore said that normal stun spells had almost no effect on these beasts. Harry had to wait, straining muscles that wanted to just fly out and begin the fight, so that they could spring a surprise defence. It was a mere thirty seconds before he could hear the heavy beating of the massive leathery wings propelling the giant bodies through the air, and only thirty more seconds before they were within attacking range. Silently Harry moved forward (knowing the others would be doing so as well) and threw a strong jellyleg hex at the nearest creature, satisfied as it screamed in sudden confusion and fell floundering into the forest as it wings stopped obeying its command. The creatures were much easier to define now as his eyes had adapted to the darkness and they were so close.

He couldn't tell how many there were, but it seemed like an awful lot as he swerved violently down and to the left to avoid being thrashed by a thick tail with a large bony knob at the end of it. He saw streaks of magical light flying through the air to his left as he pulled around and headed back into pounding confusion of wings, claws, tails, sudden bursts of fire and angered cries from the animals. He narrowly avoided missing a collision with an animal, throwing up shielding spells to protect himself and hurling hexes, trying to see which one would work effectively. They didn't seem to have much effect on the beasts, though the animals had momentarily stopped their advance and were whipping around trying to spot their swift attackers. The night began to light up in flashes as magical light and hot fire illuminated the sky.

Harry, breathing heavily, rolled to his left and pulled up directly in the sights of a large red and brown animal. It hissed in fury and heaved after him, forcing another dragon in its path to scramble out of the way and then turn to follow. Harry looked behind him and swore, wondering exactly what the hell he was planning on accomplishing with this action. They were fast, and he wasn't sure his broom could keep him ahead much longer. Then he saw the Dutch minister (at least he thought it was the Dutch minister, but at this speed and in this light it was hard to tell) trying to out fly a dark blue dragon with four wings and no tail. Harry whistled loudly through his teeth to get the man's attention, but in all the noise and rushing wind the sound was lost. The other wizard took off high into the sky, his tail following.

Harry turned and headed in his direction, feeling the heat at his feet as the dragon attempted to cook him. Fortunately they were flying at too fast a speed for the flames to reach their full distance; otherwise Harry would have become a kebob. He saw the Dutch man halt his rise and suddenly begin dropping towards the ground like a stone, hoping to confuse the four-winged creature, but it simply ceased its assent and dropped right behind him. Harry headed right at them, an idea forming in his head. He hoped the dragons chasing him would be too centered on their target to be fully aware of their surroundings. The minister threw Harry a fearful and startled glance as he went flying by and Harry flew straight overtop of him, narrowly missing him. A moment later he hard a sickening smack as the two racing dragons collided violently in mid air and dropped to the ground in a flurry of stunned and injured limbs. The second dragon that had been following the first barely avoided the crash and twisted forcefully around to watch the fall with interest, losing sight of his prey. Harry had never felt more like the snitch he chased in quidditch then he did at that moment. No wonder the thing tried so hard to get away from them.

The minister, pulling out of his drop nodded briskly to Harry as he went back over to help his partner, and Harry flew off towards another group of beasts that were darting about in furious agitation, searching for the cause of their distress. He barely missed colliding with a flying dragon that was the size of a large dog as it burst up out of nowhere, screeching in defiance. It hurtled itself at him and he whipped his wand around in haste.

"_Buffursuro_" he yelled, watching in satisfaction as the burgundy stream of light slammed into the startled creature and surrounded it, locking it in a suspended bubble shield only slightly larger then the dragon itself. Immediately he continued to head towards the cluster of beasts and watched in shock as a black and silver one threw its head back in mid flight and screeched horribly, the sound carrying over the entire din of battle, as it began to shrink right before his eyes. In seconds it was the same size as the other tiny dragon, baring its razor sharp teeth and dodging towards what Harry suddenly realized in panic was McGonagall. He needn't have worried though, as she calmly pointed her wand and transformed the creature into a flying baby rabbit. It flew off in haste only to suddenly be swallowed by another four winged dragon (at least he hoped it was another, because if they could recuperate that fast, they were in even more trouble).

Snape rose up on his broom beside her and shouted something that Harry couldn't hear, gesturing towards the school. His greasy hair, all windswept, was sticking out in odd chunks and his entire demeanour seemed to be thriving on the battle. Harry had never seen the potions master in a true fight before, and he was glad for it. Clutched in his pale hand Harry could see what looked like two potion vials, which Harry immediately realized must have been a shrinking potion. Then suddenly the two professors, unaware of his approach, whirled around and began heading towards the school. Harry looked over and saw flashes of light and fire in the distance. The dragons had apparently figured out the diversion tactic and had moved on to their target. He looked around him quickly to note that there were hardly any creatures left in the vicinity, with the exception of two who were trying to break the bubble shield Harry had cast only moments before.

He twisted and began heading back to the school when the dragon that had been chasing him earlier (not the one that had fallen in the crippling collision) saw him and set off in chase. He dove towards the trees, well aware that he couldn't fly into them at this speed but hoping that they would obscure his form. He was granted no such luck as the creature stuck right behind and spit a ball of fire in his direction. It brushed past his feet and disappeared from sight and Harry jerked to his left and then back to his right in a zigzag pattern that would hopefully throw the beast off. It was only a moment before he began to notice a warmth emanating from around his ankles and he risked a glance behind to see that his robes, despite their dampness from being outside, had caught fire. He let loose a string of profanity that would have made Sirius grin in amusement and he switched his direction towards the lake, thinking that if the creature didn't catch him at least he could fall into the water and quench the flames that were becoming more and more noticeable as the seconds passed. In moments he began to feel the fire burn the skin on his legs.

He swooped desperately down to a mere half meter above the lakes surface, trying to ignore the pain in his legs, as he wondered how he could splash the water on his self without slowing him down to be killed by the animal still tailing him. Deciding to do anything to stop the fire he rolled so his back was to the lakes surface, gripped his broom with his hands as hard as he could, and dropped his legs from their perch so they grazed the waters surface, causing the water to spray up around him as his heals pulled across the top. From that position he was allotted a very good view of the dragon as it was almost on top of him and pulled with all his strength to bring his legs back up and roll the broom to its right position. He felt a muscle in his abdomen tear from the strain and he grunted in pain, he looked behind to see the dragon about to close it's powerfully snapping (not to mention extremely large) jaws around his legs when a sudden burst of water exploded from beneath the two of them.

Harry was sent shooting off wildly to the left as he tried to avoid the new attack but he turned and looked over his shoulder just in time to see the roaring beast captured by large, strong tentacles. They wrapped around the thick body as if it were a mere toy and dragged it crashing and writhing desperately under the surface. With a loud gurgle and slurp the dragon disappeared from sight, leaving a sudden deafening silence and several depleting ripples on the waters surface. Harry stared stupidly at the spot a moment, panting heavily as he tried to catch his breath and regain his suddenly precarious balance. Then, without a look back, he pulled his lagging broom up and headed for the castle as fast as it could carry him. The pain in his legs burned terribly, the pulled muscle in his stomach was easier to ignore, but both seemed to be mere scratches as his furiously pumping adrenalin helped make the pain a distant torment.

Approaching the castle he easily heard the loud cries of the dragons (there must have been at least fifteen there!) interspersed with muddled yells from the witches and wizards below. Harry shuddered as he approached the group, feeling a shiver of darkness encompass his being as he approached. He hadn't felt it so much earlier, being too focused on springing the trap at the right moment, but it was impossible to ignore now. He forced himself to pay no heed to the oppressing feeling, wondering for a moment why it felt so terribly familiar, and instead tried to stretch out with the weak sixth sense Ron had given him. His brow furrowed as he realized that he couldn't sense where any of the dragons were, even when concentrating on them directly. He could, however, sense the general presence of his fellows as they fought tooth and nail for their lives and the lives of the students buried deep within the school walls.

Knowing his broom was on its last legs, the tail too damaged by the fire to be of much more use, he cast a quick disillusion charm on his self to mask his presence. He flew past two dragons that were holding back, watching the attack with what he suddenly realized were dead and lifeless eyes. He shuddered as he turned his gaze from the soulless orbs, absolutely hating the familiar tingle of fear they sent through his entire body. _Why were they so familiar!_ Just as he approached the roof of the castle, seeing several large beasts spitting fire in various directions over its surface, his broom gave out. With a stomach lurching jolt he thoughtlessly threw himself the few remaining feet to the bricks and just managed to wrap his fingers over the side.

His wand slipped from his grasp and fell to the roof's surface, out of sight and reach, and he hung suspended from his arms in sudden stillness. He saw the form of a person pass near by at a run and yelled out, only to have his words bleed together in an odd garble. He swore and it came out as a squeak as he realized that the disillusionment charm he'd cast on himself also hid him from his comrades. The pads of his fingers gripped desperately as the relatively smooth surface of the top of the wall began to slide beneath them. He tried to dig his floundering feet into a crack or brick line in the wall, but found nothing to help give him an extra boost. His knees smashed into it, the material of his pant legs catching slightly on the porous surface. After everything he'd been through he was going to die because he couldn't jump, this was bloody unfair. Just as his fingers slipped the final inch and he was suspended in mid air for that fraction of a second before falling, two hands flung themselves over the edge and grasped his wrists painfully; nails digging harshly into his flesh as they tightened like iron around him, halting his fall.

Harry remembered how to breathe a moment later and suddenly two more hands reached out to join the others wrapped around his arm, and then two faces appeared over the edge, grinning despite the graveness of the situation around them.

"Well what do we have here?" exclaimed a breathy voice.

"I'd call 'im a clinger." Another voice, equally haggard, answered.

"When are you going to learn Harry-"

"that stairs are a tried, tested and guaranteed method of assent?" Harry couldn't quite think of anything to say as the twins, holding an arm each, hoisted him up and over the edge of the wall as though he were a light weight, where they all collapsed in a pile on the ground. Fred (or was it George?) was instantly on his knees and looking around on the ground a moment before picking up and pressing Harry's wand back into his hand. He grinned, his face stressed and his hair was matted to his forehead with sweat. His twin looked the same, only he had a trickle of blood emanating from a cut above his eyebrow. Both of their eyes lacked their usual mirth despite the carefree words they had spoken only seconds before. There was no one else in their immediate vicinity, and judging by their heavy breaths Harry determined that they must have sprinted with all their worth to get to him in time.

"Thanks." He muttered, pulling himself to his feet. He turned from them and glanced around them to gauge the situation. He wondered briefly how they had come to be here, now, during this battle when they should have been at their flat in London or visiting the Burrow. The answer, however, was unimportant as he saw Snape fly by like a bat and, using his wand, flung his last vile of shrinking potion at a large dragon that had landed on the roof and was stalking towards a dishevelled and very focused Hermione. He quickly assessed that some dragons were clustered in groups while others spread out on their own and searched out their prey. There was steam rising from several patches on the roof, now snowless, and there were several large portions of brick lying about from crumbled chimneys or broken sections of the wall. He breathed out a sigh of relief as the dragon attacking Hermione shrank and she shot it with a perfectly aimed p_etrificus totalus._ The third time she hit the little creature it finally froze and fell heavily to the roof, skidding to only a foot away from her. He watched as she turned and ran off to help two red heads that looked like Percy and Bill, but he wasn't sure from this distance.

"Harry! Have you seen Ron?" One of them asked, still breathing hard and still gripping his wrist as the other looked around for danger. Harry coughed and looked around. He could feel him, he could feel Ron's presence somewhere off to the other side of the roof top, but he couldn't pin point it.

"I don't know where he is exactly, but he's not far." Both twins were now scanning the roof and then they swore in unison as they spotted their brothers being cornered by a yellow-brown dragon with an incredibly long body and only two front arms.

"Can't leave them alone fer a bloody second!" And they were racing across the roof towards their siblings at a speed Harry had never before seen them travel at. He jerked in their direction to help but he felt a sudden irresistible pull to head in the opposite direction. He didn't question this urge, he just followed it, running across the large expanse, forcing himself to keep running as he leapt over the still form of a wizard (he couldn't see who) and continued in a straight line to his target. He froze as a medium sized dragon suddenly crashed in front of him, its eyes staring blankly even as it took a menacing step forward and raised its tail to lash at him. He pointed his wand and was about to hex it when, out of nowhere, four stone gargoyles burst forth, running on all fours, and threw themselves silently at the creature. It reared back and took flight to the air as they attacked, one of them clamping its massive stone jaw around the creature's ankle and was dragged away as it fled to the sky screeching. The gargoyles didn't spare a glance at him as they twisted and ran off in another direction, intent on finding someone else to protect.

He started forward again, urgently, feeling the presence of his friends grow stronger and stronger, as well as that of a few others though he couldn't decipher who, until he rounded a tall wall jutting up from the center of the roof and skidded to a halt. The overwhelming feeling of oppression hit him as though he had run into the wall instead of around it. He looked up and saw Ron, crouched with one knee to the ground and glaring up fiercely at a wizard dressed in brown robes and pointing a wand at him, its tip glowing a shifting shade of green and yellow.

McGonagall and Dumbledore were standing slightly to the side, both their wands pulled but lowered limply by their sides. They were watching the proceedings with a detached air and Harry realized with horror that they weren't under their own control. From the side profile Ron looked absolutely furious, his glare was icy enough to kill the flame of every dragon around them, and his hair looked as though it was glowing. It was then that Harry was able to tear his focus away from his enraged best friend who was held at wand point on his knees, and look around them. They were completely surrounded by dragons, and these dragons looked on the verge of disobeying their Lord's commands and tearing into Ron.

**TBC**

Sorry, but I am not going to be able to write a lot of response to your fabulous reviews this time around. I'll do better next time, I promise!

Harry Lvr, Harry couldn't find Ron with their link because while he feels bereft without it being complete, he has to be within a certain distance from Ron to sense his presence. Wicked review! What a lot of fun reading!

Scribhneoir, you win for being the fastest reviewer alive. I think you finished chapter 27 literally five minutes after I posted it. That in itself is extremely flattering.

Everybody, thank you for the encouraging, constructive and enthusiastic reviews! You're all wonderful!

**Next Update**: September 21, 2005

(this means the last chapter will be posted on the twenty-third, because you deserve to get to the bottom of this story as fast as possible :)


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

Lupin supposed that, under the circumstances, any practical wizard or witch would be petrified by what was going on about him. It was true that it was a nasty scene bent with violence and hatred and the acrid taste of revenge. Dragons were howling in agony from all sorts of directions, and there were cries for help and grunts of pained determination released from the witches and wizards fighting for their very existence. It was utter chaos, but Lupin wasn't as afraid as he probably should have been. Of course that could have something to do with the fact that he had smashed his head into the ground several minutes before and was just starting to regain his proper senses.

The last two days for Lupin had been exhausting, seeing as Ron had ordered him to apparate to the closest wizarding town and then (accidentally he hoped) given him the wrong coordinates. Seeing as Ron didn't seem to need a directional system to apparate Lupin suspected that that was a completely plausible excuse. However, the ex-werewolf still hadn't been happy to reappear along a path that was five miles from the town he needed, only to discover that it was a muggle town (though it was a great stretch friendlier then the last one he had visited all those months before). Not having any muggle money he had needed to barter his passage to the next town over (recognizing it by the name Ron had given him) and had spent the journey huddled in the back of a rickety truck that had last been filled with onions, some of which had rotted and were left where they lay.

Then of course, once he had arrived within the town it was too late to be allowed access to the public floo network, despite the fact that he announced the urgency of his state. His wizardry identification had worked against him yet again as it clearly stated he was a werewolf and his magical kind decided that, despite his emergency, he could wait until morning to travel. Then they proceeded to provide him with the rattiest accommodations the town could offer, right above the local pub. Therefore, despite his attempt at haste, it took him much too long to arrive at Hogwarts and when he did it was to discover that Ron had already been there.

It hadn't been difficult to see that Harry had not been allowed to speak with his friend. The young, dark haired wizard had been standing as rigid as a wand and his vivid green eyes, partially concealed by his glasses and black fringe, were fuming. There had been no time for words however, as their group had hurried to the rooftop to prepare what minimal defence they could. Lupin had walked off with Madame Hooch and a determined Hermione when Dumbledore had finished his instructions, and had watched from a distance as the aged wizard had spoken for several long minutes with Harry. After that things had happened fairly quickly. Harry had walked off to join McGonagall, and then Ron had come crashing in. Hermione had gasped in sudden worry at his appearance, but she hadn't moved an inch to see if he was okay, despite the anxiousness she felt.

After Harry and McGonagall's group had flown off towards the forest it hadn't taken long before they could see bursts of magic intermingled with dragon's breath in the distance. It had been heart pounding, watching what was going on but not being a part of it. That feeling hadn't lasted long however as the massive beasts had quickly approached the castle despite the diversion. It had turned into a massive free for all as some of the dragons landed; tearing away small sections of the stone wall and others had flown overhead spitting flames and lashing out with their tails.

Somewhere during the fight Lupin was distracted as four flaming haired men burst out of the almost hidden stairwell and thrown themselves into the fray with an energy that encouraged Lupin's own fight. He had been trying to keep an eye out for his comrades, but it was becoming more and more difficult by the minute, when suddenly a large number of the dragons they were fighting seemed to dwindle to only a few threatening presences. Without thought Lupin had raced off around the corner to see Dumbledore and McGonagall standing in the midst of at least ten beasts; a powerful shield cast by the headmaster was deflecting the blows and fire from the animals, but it was taxing the older man strength considerably. Lupin yelled and ran forward, hoping to distract some of the beasts.

In hindsight it may not have been the best course of action, but it had been the only thing at the time that he had thought of. The smells of the beasts and the heat of the fire was confusing his senses and hindering his ability to think clearly. As it were, three of the beasts felt he was distraction enough to leave their current prey and stalk after him. It took a moment to realize that against three he was severely out numbered, out sized, and (though he hated to admit it) outmatched. He threw all the hexes and curses he could, but the animals only stumbled from the blows and became more incensed.

They surrounded him and had started creeping inwards when Lupin smelt the familiar scent of Ron. Moments later the young man had rushed into view, a wild look in his eyes and his whip snapping about menacingly, cracking like bullet shots in the air. The dragons had not been impressed by his display, happy enough with Lupin as their focus point. That, Lupin could confidently say, had been a mistake on their part, because Ron became absolutely enraged as they came closer and closer to ending Lupins existence.

The Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor whirled around in circles as he tried to watch his three attackers, aware that at any moment they would strike. Then, with no warning, the large red and orange-scaled dragon with glittering translucent wings collapsed to the roofs top and did not move again. One of his last two attackers stopped their approach and stared at it in confusion, the other was inclined to ignore its fellow's death (at least he had assumed it was dead at the time) and continued to advance. It flung its long but thick tail around and Lupin leapt into the air to avoid it. It managed to clip his right foot and throw him off balance, forcing him to fall to the ground and roll around to get up. He'd twisted his ankle.

"_I said Stop_!" He heard Ron holler somewhere in front of him even as the creature lifted its tail again. This time it would no doubt catch him, but then it too began to fall to the ground, just as the one previously had. Its black eyes rolled into its head, and he realized with a jolt that it was going to fall right on top of him! He lunged forward, quickly trying to escape by ducking under its long neck and come out on its other side. However, he hadn't been fast enough and the wind gushed out of him as the creature's lower neck collapsed over him. He slammed onto the ground and saw stars as the air was forced from his lungs. It took a moment for sound to come rushing back to his ears and he felt the heavy flesh pinning him on his stomach from the waist down.

"Lupin!" Ron yelled, obviously not knowing what had become of him. He went to yell out in return and had to pause a moment and catch his breath as a bout of coughing attacked him. Then he tried again.

"I'm okay! I'm okay Ron!" He called out, hoping his young friend would hear him. He heard the crack of the whip and watched as Ron stepped into the open space before him looking over in relief as he saw that Lupin was in fact alive. It was then that the professor remembered that there was still one more dragon behind him and he tried to look over his shoulder, seeing nothing but the dragon pinning him.

"Ron! Help Dumbledore and Minerva!" He yelled out even as Ron seemed to be turning around to look behind him.

"I don't need to, it seems they all got bored with them." He called back and with a sudden rush all the dragons that Lupin had tried to distract only moments before once again fell into his line of vision. They swarmed around, some flapping in the air, others resting in agitation on the roofs cold surface. Because of their massive size and impressive number they stayed back, leaving a good deal of space around Ron and Lupin, occasionally they would snap at each other, imitating basic dragon hostility as their eyes stared blankly.

He looked back at Ron, only a little more then five meters from him, and frowned as the hardened man wavered a moment on his feet. Ron had stripped from his jacket at some point during this fight, now dressed in a t-shirt and pants that looked worse for wear. This was how he had dressed since Lupin had met up with him and it held no affect to the wizard; what bothered him was the way he was holding his right arm to his body, as though protecting it. He was keeping his eyes firmly guarded on the creatures surrounding them, his feet set shoulder width apart and his hair, stringy from sweat and grime, barely moved in the occasional burst of wind. His shoulders were hunched slightly: he was tired.

Dumbledore and McGonagall appeared in his line of vision and greeted Ron, both keeping their untrusting and sharp gazes on the creatures around them. Dumbledore looked over at Lupin, frowned and pointed his wand in his direction. The pinned professor heard him sharply begin commanding a _wingardium_ _leviosa_ only to have him stop the incantation half way through and calmly turn to look across from them. Somehow, from somewhere, another person had entered the circle of dragons without Lupin noticing. Then the rapidly beating wings of the beasts sent the beings scent in his direction and he almost regurgitated his meagre lunch from the stench. He smelt like decaying flesh that had been left for days in the sun, and with the smell came a feeling of darkness that seemed to surround him in despair. This was the Dragon Lord.

OOOOO

Ron's chest seemed to squeeze tightly as the evil wizard was once again so close to him. He had a moment of utter panic, the urge to run away from the being that no longer felt human. Instead of running, however, he stood frozen to the spot and then had to remind his lungs how to expand. The darkness that was becoming so familiar to him invaded his senses, it made him dizzy, and negative thoughts began to cloud his mind before he could get a hold of himself. _This is no time for a panic attack you twit!_ He commanded himself, looking briefly to the right to see that Lupin was still there (where would he go though, being pinned under that creature), and then to his left to note that McGonagall had her wand poised to attack while Dumbledore looked almost relaxed as he watched the newcomer with sharp eyes.

Ron glanced back to stare at the man, he could see several dark stains on the brown robes but he could make out no face as the overly large hood and the shadows hid it. Ron had yet to determine where the light that slightly illuminated the entire area surrounding them came from. The dragons were slowly becoming more agitated as they stood by and watched at a distance, but they were not making any moves to attack, not while their master was there. For a moment he had the urge to spout out some ridiculous greeting, something that would make the moment seem even more cliché then it already was. _We meet again_ was the first line he thought of, but the anger and fear that was stirring in his stomach had him bite his tongue. He was not going to say the first words!

"So we meet again." Ron glared, somehow not surprised at all that this 'Dragon Lord' would say exactly what he was thinking. It sounded just as cheesy as Ron imagined it would.

"Apparently you have a knack fer trouble." He bit back sharply. There was a moment of silence before the wizard stepped forward, coming that much closer to Ron and causing a shiver of sick distaste travel down his spine.

"I will offer you one last chance to join me boy. Voldemort may be defeated, but I will not fail as he has." The man's voice held an edge of uncontained excitement, but whether it was at the prospect of his victory or of having Ron join him they would never know. Ron laughed disdainfully, hearing the bitterness in the sound and wondering exactly when he had become so cynical. He glared into the hooded face.

"Yer pathetic. You didn't even know your idol was dead until two days ago! You've lost yerself in a world of utter lunacy and if you think that I would ever lower myself to your level then yer even more starkers then I'm giving you credit for!" Why oh why couldn't he just shut up for once and _not_ antagonize the villain? Even as he said this the villain in question stood taller in anger, his hands, complete with a wand in one, clenched into tight fists and a momentary stillness settled in the air. Even the beating sound of the dragon's wings (which Ron was trying really hard to ignore) seemed to dull as the being took offence to his comment

"And you, young wanderer, will regret your decision."

"Not bloody likely."

"Enough of this. I have come here to avenge my friend and mentor, not to waste time speaking to insignificants such as your self. I demand that he show his face!"

"I'm not following you." Ron snapped.

"The one who killed Lord Voldemort! I demand that he show himself, we have business to conclude. I demand to see Harry Potter!" Ron couldn't help flinch at his best friends name being thrown at him so forcefully and with such revulsion. His name brought on a flood of guilt that he had been doing his best to avoid, but even as the raw emotions emerged within him, so did his rage. How dare someone speak of his friend with such utter lack of respect! He found himself stepping forward in threat as his fear of the insane wizard transformed into anger. It was that moment when Howlite and Hornblend chose to make an appearance, flying out of nowhere and wrapping themselves firmly in his soiled hair as though they belonged there. He ignored them, but the soft and authoritative voice of his old Headmaster could not be so easily dismissed.

"Do not take action in haste, young Ronald, you do not yet understand what we are dealing with." Which of course meant that Dumbledore did understand, at least some, of what was going on.

Ronald then reminded everyone present that it was haste and not logic that usually determined his actions; especially when his friends were threatened, whether they were dead or alive.

"You want to see Harry? I'd be glad to send you to him, though I highly suspect that he's in heaven, while you would go straight to hell."

"Impossible! I have no patience for your incompetence, bring him to me!"

"One, you are in no position to make such a demand, and two, he's dead, so I won't be bringing him anywhere." He spit the words out through gritted teeth and glared.

"In case you haven't noticed I am in the perfect position to make demands, and I refuse to believe he is dead. You're hiding the coward away." Coward! COWARD! _I'm going to rip off yer pureblood jewels and feed 'em to ye…_

"Then you'd better start believing; he died at my hands two years ago." Well, that seemed to shut the wizard up a moment. He heard a soft exclamation from McGonagall but ignored it, focusing all his attention on the dark wizard before him.

"Well, that certainly answers a few questions we've all had." Dumbledore spoke up as though this was a meeting among friends and Ron shifted slightly on his heels as the powerful wizard stepped closer to him. He didn't dare look over at him though, as he did not trust taking his eyes off of the filth before him, even for a second. Every nerve in his body told him that a moment of distraction could cost him this fight. Besides, he found it difficult to look at his old headmaster and not feel an overpowering rush of shame and guilt. It would be best if he just avoided eye contact with anyone from Hogwarts from now on.

"Dumbledore," the hooded being hissed, "I know you are hiding him. Bring him to me at once."

"Now Mr. Yorkshire, you know very well that I can't do that." Ron just managed not to flinch at the incriminating words.

"Then I will have to supplement his death with this school and every single child you have hidden in its bowels." Ron's breathing hitched and he felt the waves of restrained magic pouring off of Dumbledore as he stood so close to him. A dragon at the back of the large group screamed in glee.

"You will do no such thing young Richard. Have you so completely forgotten your roots! What has driven you to this madness?"

"Madness? I've been accused several times this evening of harbouring such a trait but I fail to recognize it within myself. If it is in anyone it is you, Albus Dumbledore. You and this pathetic excuse of a school!"

"It wasn't so long ago that you were a proud member of this very foundation." The Headmaster reasoned.

"Is every egotistical, power hungry, world dominating, evil wizard from Hogwarts!" Ron couldn't contain his bark of surprise. "Honestly, isn't it Durmstrang's turn to be blamed for screwing up its students?" It didn't surprise him that neither wizard answered his outburst, almost treating him as though he wasn't even a part of this scenario. Well, he supposed he'd gotten used to being pushed into the background over the years.

"This very foundation is what convinced me that the wizarding world cannot continue in such a fashion. Allowing mudbloods to learn wizardry and witchcraft, allowing half-breeds to work within its walls as though they're equals! I will not stand by and watch the purity of the wizarding world dwindle to muddled bloodlines and crossed breeds. It is disgusting and impure. You would have us sink to the level of muggles." He spit in rage.

"That is a rather profound judgement, considering what you have transformed into to create your ideal world." There was underlying venom in Dumbledore's voice, mostly disguised and maybe not recognizable from a distance, but Ron heard it. And he felt it as the wizard's magic seemed to crackle sharply around him in disgust.

"I have done nothing but become the wizard I was meant to be."

"You have ceased being a wizard altogether. Your hunger for power and lack of humanity has driven you to forsake the pure essence of magic altogether. You have become a _Banista_!" Ron's eyes widened in shock as the title registered in his agitated mind and he stared with new knowledge at the evil creature standing not ten meters from him. A _Banista_ was perhaps one of the most taboo subjects within the wizarding world, often only discussed by scholars whose expertise was dark magic. Of course Ron's older twin brothers had told him stories while growing up about witch's and wizards in the past that had turned _banista_, often leaving him with nightmares for a week after as he imagined one was hiding in his closet. Of course once their parents had discovered that the twins had been speaking of the _banista_ to Ron…well, his mother had taken them by the ears out of Ron's room and they had never uttered a word to him about it again.

His father had been the one to explain it to him, at the tender age of eight, and he had never forgotten a word of that conversation:

"The _Banista,_" he had softly said, while sitting next to Ron in the family kitchen, "are witches and wizards who have forsaken the very meaning of magic by twisting it into unspeakable darkness."

"You mean they use the unforgivable curses?" He'd asked, wide eyed.

"They very well might have, but it is deeper then that. Magic is a gift Ron, and we are very lucky to be able to wield it as we have throughout our entire existence. But sometimes there are magical people who believe they need more magic, more power. Now, you know that good magic can be extremely powerful, in fact as long as there is good magic it should be able to overcome dark magic of any form."

"George said that dark magic could be stronger then good magic."

"It can, but you must believe me when I say that no matter how strong a person wielding dark magic can become, there is an equal in good magic."

"If they are both equal, then why did you say good magic could overcome dark magic no matter what?"

"I didn't say that Ron; you need to listen to everything I say to you not just what you want to hear." His father had rubbed his forehead a moment, as though trying to decide how to explain this to a child so young. Ron remembered being intrigued by how serious his father was acting. He only ever saw him this serious about things when it involved money and whether or not they had enough to get everyone Christmas gifts that year (though Ron wasn't supposed to have overheard that conversation with Mum).

"Good magic can almost always overcome bad magic, but sometimes a wizard can become too powerful in the dark arts, and that results in many deaths." Frowning, completely serious, Ron leaned forward and asked quietly:

"Just like You-Know-Who?"

"Yes, just like him" His dad confirmed. Ron frowned.

"Was he a _Banista_?"

"No, he was too attached to his ideals of pureblood. He merely mastered the dark arts. A _Banista_ goes one step further. They become so involved with the dark magic that they allow it to take them over. They are no longer wizards or witches, and some people believe that they completely cease to be human."

"What are they then?"

"Nobody knows, and that is why they are so scary. No _Banista_ is ever the same as another. They master different powers and darkness depending on what their ultimate goals are, and then they become a new form of creature."

"Can they be stopped?"

"Yes, but it is very difficult. They will always have weaknesses, but that depends on what they have become. They can become impermeable to magic; curses and hexes are absorbed into them, not harming them at all."

"How many of them have there been?"

"Not many. Hardly any in fact." His father's hands twitched nervously and he watched in fascination as they wrung together. The very subject made his dad scared, and if it scared him, then Ron was immediately assured that he too should be afraid.

"Are there any now?" He asked, fearful.

"Oh no, no no, none at all thank goodness. The last one was centuries ago, but we never forget how much death that one witch caused."

Well, Ron thought, coming back to the present, it looked like the time had come for some other crazy wizard to become the darkness he was trying to master. The question now was: what evil had he focused on? What darkness consumed the very souls of living things?

"You have no idea what I have become! How dare you accuse me of such a title!" the figure before them hissed, outraged. Ron stepped slightly away from Dumbledore, suddenly deciding that a wider space between them might make an attack from the crazy being less focused and easier to evade.

Then, without warning, the man reached up and removed his hood abruptly glaring at Dumbledore with spite. If Ron had been expecting some scaly monstrosity with red eyes like Voldemort had been, then he found he would have been disappointed as he looked at the outraged face of a tanned, brown eyed, brown haired, average man, though his face was sunken, creating a hollowed out look and he had massive purple bruises sitting under both eyes. And his eyes…bottomless black holes that looked as though they were starving to be filled with light and knowledge. They looked like…like…

He felt a tug on his entire body despite the fact that he wasn't moving as he gazed, trapped, into those eyes. He screamed, not able to help himself as the fear and panic clouded his focus and he tried to fight against the sudden assault, against the attempt at stealing him from his own body and putting him deep within the black pits. All he could see were the eyes…the eyes…

Two bright flashes suddenly burned into his retina, one gold and one a piercing red and he stopped screaming abruptly. Falling forward and mashing his already bruised knees into the hard wet surface. He sucked in a breath as though it were his first and held his eyes closed. His head was filled with a red-hot pain and he clutched at it, trying to push it back together and force the pain to stop. At the time he didn't know how long it took for him to regain his senses, but he would later learn that it all took place in mere seconds.

"His eyes!" He gasped out. "Don't look into his eyes!" He cautiously opened his own, needing to see what was happening. His vision was blurred and he saw bright red and golden dots but after a few blinks he could see well enough to look around. What he saw made him absolutely furious.

"Stop!" He pushed to one knee and glared, trying to regain his strength after the recent attack. He was still trying to recover from draining the three dragons that had been attacking Lupin only minutes before. Honestly, you'd think stealing other creatures energy on such a massive scale would power him up, not make him weak in the knees. None the less, his fury fuelled him now and he glared, slowly latching onto the dark energies about him, despite how vile they felt. As he yelled he gained the attention of the evil thing before him that looked so much like a normal wizard, and Ron was relieved as it broke eye contact with his two professors. However, they did not seem to come back to themselves.

"Release them." He ordered, still on one knee. The thing laughed at him, but he could tell the sound was pinched with confusion. Ron could still feel the man's dark powers reaching out at him, trying to claw into his body despite the fact that Ron wasn't looking into his eyes. It instantly became clear that this Richard Yorkshire didn't need to look into a person's eye to control them, but for some reason he had to see Ron's. Odd that.

"Or what, you'll spit on me? You've nothing but a whip to fight with and I assure you that such physical attacks will not affect me." Ron stared at its chin, refusing to look up. "I am more powerful then you could ever imagine!"

"You know, I am getting tired of people underestimating me." Ron growled and with a quick hand movement he sent Yorkshire's wand flying across the roof to land somewhere behind the fallen dragons. Immediately Ron began to draw on the energies about him again to replace the tiny amount he had just used.

"Fool, I don't need a wand to end the lives of all those around me."

"Neither do I!" Ron spat and raised his arm again, pointing it directly at the ex-wizard. He called out for his energy, slowly feeling it draw towards him across the short expanse between them. He called for it the same way he had called for and manipulated the dragons before him, not wanting to kill but wanting to render immobile for a long stretch of time. Immediately he noticed a problem as the sour energies around his enemy resisted his call, moving slowly towards him as though they were frozen molasses. Then he felt a sharp answering tug as the being once again tried to capture his own soul. For the first time Ron realized that using his chanelling abilities in such a way could weaken his hold on his surroundings as he placed his body and mind in a slightly altered state. He refused to let the being control him, and he refused to break the connection.

He pulled harder at the energies, beginning to see them take a visible form on the path between them, emerging as black strings snaking around each other as though attempting to stop their momentum. He pulled harder. He heard himself yelling in effort. He heard his enemy yelling back, though he couldn't decipher what either of them was saying. Then he recognized an ancient power that didn't belong to either the _banista_ or his dark magic, it belonged to the dragons that he had possessed. It was what controlled them, and even as Ron sensed this, he knew he could never release it. It was too deep within the darkness, it was lost among the black hole of death and despair.

Ron broke his attack off in agony as the dark energies began to hurt him, and he gulped for air as he tried to steady himself on his knees. He couldn't stop this thing. Not like this. To simply pull at his energy from a distance, it wasn't going to work. Ron stared in hatred as his body shivered, suddenly noticing the icy chill in the air as it blew through his wet clothes. Across from him, still standing but obviously very shaky on his feet, his enemy stared back. Ron met his gaze, no longer concerned that looking into his eyes would harm him.

"Impossible." The thing wheezed, glaring. Ron didn't answer, catching his breath and thinking. What the bloody hell was he going to do now if he couldn't simply drain this thing of its energy? He began to worry, feeling the sense of imminent failure begin to loom. He wouldn't be strong enough to stop this thing, and it would kill everyone!

"How?" It hissed. "How can you resist me? I command souls and you are not soulless!"

"Yeah well, someone's tried that trick on me already. I guess you could say I've built an immunity towards it." Ron growled back and finally, finally pushed to his feet. He noticed with satisfaction that his enemy took a step back as he stood. So it seemed the _Banista_ was just as weary of him. Good, that was something at least. But it seemed that that was also bad, because now that he was aware of exactly how large a threat Ron was, he wasn't going to leave anything to chance anymore. Ron swallowed painfully as the closest of the dragons began to swoop towards him, crying out as though they were headed to their final battle. He needed a moment to regroup, he didn't have enough time to gather his strength to stop them.

OOOOO

Harry watched in horrified fascination as Ron pointed his arm at the brown robed wizard with empty black eyes. He didn't know what to do; Dumbledore and McGonagall were apparently stunned only two meters from Ron and the Dragons were finally beginning to notice him. He saw Lupin lying pinned to the ground not far from the group, but at this distance he had trouble making out the look on his face. Hell, he didn't care about Lupin's features! It was Ron who was currently in a fix! He stepped forward only to halt abruptly as his long lost best mate opened his mouth and started hurling obscenities at the wizard across from him, calling him all manner of filth and cowardice. Then the evil wizard (for Harry hadn't yet heard that he wasn't a wizard) yelled back, in an equally furious voice, insults and vile names. Harry wasn't sure if either being was aware of what they were saying, but one look into Ron's wide and focused blue green eyes told Harry that Ron, at least, was unawares.

Then Harry noticed very faint shadows forming, almost invisible in the dim lighting, but definitely there, floating between the two of them. Then, mingling with the shadow, were faint swirls of colour, all sorts of colours that seemed to be trying to tie up the struggling shadow. Then abruptly the swearing stopped and the cloud disappeared, leaving Harry wondering it he had even seen it as he looked between them. Ron looked shaky, but he was doing an excellent job of hiding it as he glared at his enemy. Harry felt a slight pull of darkness surround him and his negative thoughts once again tried to gain a foothold within his mind. He shoved them away with a force of long practice.

"Impossible!" The evil wizard wheezed, bending slightly at the waist as if he were pained somehow within his stomach. "How? How can you resist me? I command souls and you are not soulless!" He commanded souls? He…commanded…oh how could Harry have been so stupid to not realize why the darkness around him felt so familiar? Dementors! This wizard had somehow gained the power of the Dementors and he had manipulated it to control all of these dragons! It wasn't identical, but the fundamentals were all there and Harry had missed it!

"Yeah well, someone's tried that trick on me already. I guess you could say I've built an immunity towards it." He knew without a doubt that Ron was referring to being controlled and almost dominated by Giles McTagert's reincarnation of the C_hakra Incantata._ Harry's eyes narrowed as he understood that this wizard was trying to steal Ron's soul, and had maybe already stolen both Dumbledore and McGonagall's. But then the dragons, who had been waiting with an odd air of forced anxiousness, began moving forward and Harry panicked as he saw them head straight for Ron.

He pointed his wand, thinking of all the good times he and his best friend had had together, everything they had survived together, and how they had always been there for each other. Harry wasn't about to fail Ron now.

"_EXPECTO PATRONUM_!" He yelled and out of his wand burst a shining silver stag galloping towards the dragons that were closest to attacking Ron. And then, much to Harry's utter surprise a second stag, just as large and brilliant as the first charged out of his wand after it, turning off to chase a different crowd of dragons. And then, if that wasn't enough, a flaming red and gold phoenix, outlined in the same radiant silver as the two stags, burst forth from his wand, screeching with a cry that demanded battle. Harry dropped his arm in amazement and watched as the magical bird swooped around in the air and headed straight back towards Harry. His eyes widened as he was suddenly unsure of its purpose (even though he had created it) and he dove out of the way a moment later to see it fly over his head at four dragons that had been almost on top of him.

Every single beast under the mad wizards control fled in terror, hurtling their huge bodies over the side of the castle as they tried to escape the three patronus's that were quickly clearing out the massive crowd. The phoenix disappeared over the high wall separating them from all the others that Harry had just run away from to join Ron. As a sudden silence seemed to rein the area Harry whipped about to look for Ron, hoping for all he was worth that the silver stags had reached him in time. Ron wasn't standing where he had been a moment before. Harry looked over to where the evil wizard had been only to notice that he had moved as well. But neither had moved far as his gaze fell upon them both locked together in a bunch of flailing limbs. Ron didn't pull his punches as the two tangled dangerously.

It was only a moment before the Dragon Lord had stuck his foot out and tripped Ron, who fell like a tonne of bricks. During his fall, however, he managed to pull the wizard down with him, his fists tightly clutching the dirty brown robes. Harry started running towards them, stopping just close enough to watch but not certain what to do. If he jumped into the fight he could confuse Ron more then help him. He stood, tensed to intervene when Ron, breathing hard and twisting in a way Harry didn't think possible, pinned the wizard beneath him. The wizard looked up and grinned mockingly, not even winded by the struggle.

"Physical force no longer affects me." He hissed, and as far as Harry could see he was telling the truth: despite all the blows Ron had landed there wasn't one mark on the man's face.

"I didn't plan on hurting you with my fists." Ron hissed, his voice laced in bitter anger as he leaned closer. Then, without warning the red haired man (and yes, up close Harry could honestly say that Ron's hair was glowing) planted his right hand across his enemy's forehead and placed the other over his heart. The wizard turned dementor's (though it was odd he wasn't affected by Harry's patronus) eyes widened and though it was impossible to read the emotions in the black orbs it wasn't difficult to read the sudden panic scrunching his face.

"Noo…" he began to cry out but was silenced abruptly as a black mist began to rise out of his body and swirl around Ron's hands. Harry didn't see any other colours this time as he watched intently. It seemed to take an hour, but in reality it was only a minute as Ron's body began to shake overtop of his prisoners. Harry felt a cold fear begin to grip his limbs as he watched the scene unfold. He watched Ron with such fierceness that he didn't even notice others come to stand beside him until one of the four red heads quietly hissed their brothers name.

"Ron."

"Do not touch him." The very weak voice of Dumbledore warned as he suddenly stood next to Harry, obviously having much difficulty standing.

"It's hurting him." Hermione's normally argumentative voice was intensely quiet as she appeared on Harry's other side, gripping his hand.

"Dark energies such as these will always hurt those who walk the path of light. He will overcome them."

"You can't be sure of that." Snape's cynical voice spoke from somewhere behind.

"I can." Harry responded for them all, staring intently at his friend as the tall form, bent over pinning his victim, shook almost uncontrollably. It was an intense moment more before he suddenly ripped his arms away and violently fell off of the one beneath him, shoving his body even further from them all. His face was pinched in agony, but it was his eyes that Harry immediately noticed, they were a swirling mass of blackness and blue, each fighting for dominancy. Harry pulled his hand from Hermione's and dove towards his friend.

"Ron! Ron fight it!"

"I can't!" He howled, his right arm clutched tightly to his stomach and he wailed and tried to thrash about, pushing himself further from the group.

"Ron, you must release the energies!" Hermione snapped, coming close but not touching him as Harry was currently wrapping his arms around his friend's shoulders.

"No!" Ron hissed angrily, glaring wildly at them all as they approached him. "No, not here! The school! The shields!" He tried to explain through his torment and Harry understood immediately what the problem was.

"_Accio_ broom!" He screamed forcefully and was not surprised when, mere seconds later, brooms came flying from all directions and began stopping and dropping to the ground beside him. Some did not make it all the way to him as they crashed into those standing around them. He shoved his wand in his robe pocket and grabbed a broom with his left hand. Wrapping his right arm around Ron's waist he hauled the writhing man to his knees. It was high enough as he manoeuvred behind him and slid the broom between their legs. In seconds he was taking off, flying them over the side of Hogwarts and towards the edge of the forbidden forest at a furious pace, holding tightly to Ron so he didn't dive off.

They tumbled to the ground in landing, but neither noticed and Harry grabbed at Ron.

"Okay! Now Ron, release the energies!" He ordered, panic for his friend making him almost hysterical as Ron struggled within himself. The red head planted both his hands on the ground, his fingers digging into the grass and dirt but he cried out a moment later.

"I can't!" He wailed and was unable to explain any more then that. Harry didn't need an explanation though as he looked at Ron's right wrist and saw the grotesquely swollen flesh, and the bangle that was biting into the reddened skin. He dug frantically in his robes for his wand and pulled it out, touching the tip to the metal.

"_Allohamora_" He commanded sharply, and the thing seemed to shatter, breaking into no less then five pieces and falling from him. Immediately Harry felt Ron stiffen and he wrapped his arms around him in support. The ground around them began to tremble, birds in the trees took off, crying out startled. It lasted moments and then everything seemed to sink back into the stillness that was night. Even more so now, it seemed, as the only sound Harry could hear was that of Ron's and his own harsh breathing.

His friend collapsed trembling into his arms and Harry worried as his hair went through a rapid change of colours before settling on his natural flaming locks. It was then that he noticed two tiny creatures wound tightly within them, casting off an extremely faint, almost unnoticeable glow. He decided to ignore them for now.

"Ron? Ron mate, open your eyes. Let me see those baby blues eh?" He stared down at his friend hopefully and got no response. "Ron?" He tapped his face lightly. That did the trick as Ron's eyes shot open and stared around wildly. Harry sighed in relief as he saw they were their normal vibrant blue. Ron's panicked gaze froze suddenly as they seemed to register Harry for the first time and he stared, unmoving.

"Are you okay Ron?" Harry asked softly and Ron blinked, exhaling a suddenly harsh breath and not looking away from Harry's face. "Ron?"

"Fer some reason," he croaked out in an effort that sounded painful, "I thought I survived that fight."

"What are you talking about mate? You did survive." Harry replied, tightening his hold in relief as he realized that everything would be okay. He heard the sound of people landing nearby but refused to break eye contact with his friend, so glad to finally have him back. "I missed you Ron." He confessed, not at all embarrassed about it. Ron blinked and then his eyes went wide as though he understood something profound but wasn't sure he could believe it. His hands were suddenly wrapped tightly in Harry's robes and his irregular breathing increased.

"Harry?" He gasped and Harry nodded, not understanding this sudden attack of apparent anxiety.

"Yeah Ron, calm down okay? Take some deep breaths." But his friend was no longer listening as his eyes began to roll into the back of his head.

"Harry." He whispered just before going limp within his arms.

**TBC**

Well, there you have it, he finally saw Harry! Now you can stop being mad at me for never letting Ron know he's alive! I'm working like a mad dog, so again I apologize for not replying to the reviews, but I really thank you guys for them!

All the best!

**Next Update**: September 23, 2005 (look, I got the dates right this time!)


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

Bill Weasley sat quietly in the comfortable chair; the wizarding business magazine opened on his lap hadn't seen a new page in over two hours. He hadn't even glanced at the article the page rested on, much to the annoyance of the picture. The impeccably groomed and pale features of Draco Malfoy glared in annoyance at Bill as the skilled curse breaker ignored him. If the image could yell it would no doubt be cussing at his lack of attention, intelligence, lineage and so on, but thankfully the editors for this magazine realized how much some business hotshots enjoyed the spotlight, and a mute had been placed on all images.

He stared at the empty seats across from him, where his twin brothers had sat only minutes before. It was their turn to sit by Ron. The entire family and some select friends were taking watch in turn because Ron was draining them of their energy at a pace that had them falling asleep within half an hour. Bill had left Ron's bedside two hours before and had walked down the stairs to collapse in the very seat he still slouched in. His thoughts, however, were still up in the horribly painted orange room where three of his brothers currently sat.

He could picture George and Fred talking continuously, trying to drive a reaction out of their still sibling. They would no doubt be going on and on about all the crazy and fun things Ron had missed in the last two years, but Bill knew that most of the stories would be fabricated. His little twin brothers hadn't been in much of a joking mood. There were some instances when they would pull a prank, have a good laugh, make everyone feel better, but it had always been a far cry from their normal behaviour. Their shop, which was still doing well enough to stay open, hadn't seen any new tricks or treats in over thirteen months. That was a record for the twins, seeing as they had started creating their pranks at around one year of age.

It was no doubt that in about ten minutes they would begin to feel too tired to talk and they would simply sit their and hold their brothers hands. This had been going on for two days now, and each member of the family had created their own little routines for when they sat with Ron. At first the idea that they couldn't all stay and watch him at the same time had caused a few tempers to flare. Everyone had missed him, and everyone needed to see him to convince themselves that he was truly back among them, in a manner of speaking. It was Dad that had stepped in and calmed them all, making them understand that Ron needed them just as much as they needed him, if not more. A list had been created so everyone would know what time they could sit with him and because of that brilliant piece of paper there hadn't been a problem yet.

The only person who was completely unaffected by his little brothers need to recover was Harry, who had barely left the room since Ron had been moved there directly from Hogwarts. Madame Pomfrey, who had been very stern in her instructions to Harry and Bill as she had knelt over Ron's unconscious form, had determined that sending him to St. Mungo's was a poor idea. There were several reasons for this, and Bill agreed with each one of them.

To send Ron to the magical hospital might be detrimental to the health of other recovering patients, seeing as he was pulling energy from all his surroundings. In the privacy of the Burrow, which was extremely crowded at the moment, Ron would be closer to nature and friends and family. The positive energy he could siphon would be much healthier for him.

The Burrow was also shielded against apparating and had wards that detected any unwanted visitors before they stepped into the yard. Dumbledore himself had come over and placed a very strong detection spell that could even distinguish if an animgus was present. That, Bill had instantly known, had been a precaution against journalists such as Rita Skeeter, who had absolutely no respect of privacy when it came to a big story. This led to the most important reason for Ron being at home instead of at the very public healing centre: so far no one had come knocking on their door to ask about their part in the attack at Hogwarts, and that was how they planned to keep it.

They had all felt, even in the beginning when his brother had fled in fear, that the wizarding world had no need to know of his new abilities. To make such a fact public would make Ron's life very difficult. Bill was under no illusions, he knew that there were power hungry Wizards out there of the likes of Giles McTagert who would do everything they could to get their hands on Ron. There was also the fact that Ron would be instantly famous, but not necessarily in a good way. The stigma associated with being a chaneller would have left the wizarding world up in arms. Public opinion (Not that they really had a right to one as far as Bill was concerned; they knew nothing of what had happened to his brother and they would only cause him more pain) would shift back and forth between hate, fear, acceptance, curiosity and indifference.

Many people would demand that Ron was locked up, away from society, just in case he decided to turn evil as many of his predecessors had. Others would demand that he use his gift to benefit all of mankind in ways that nobody yet understood. Scholars and scientific professions would want to learn everything they could about him. His privacy would be non-existent, the ministry would be forever suspicious of him, the public would swoon and scream, people would point at him in the streets or run away…it was no way to live. They would not subject Ron to this fate, he would be free to choose his own. He had suffered enough!

Bill's hands clenched tightly and he was drawn back to his surroundings as the magazine tore half way down the middle. Draco Malfoy ran from his picture. He closed the pages and set it aside before he did any more damage; Percy hated it when his things were wrecked…they all did in fact.

He heard his mum and Ginny bustling about in the kitchen, preparing a heavy lunch seeing as everyone needed all the strength they could get. Literally. His dad was at the ministry, doing important 'ministry' work. In fact he was keeping an eye on Fudge, who was no doubt acting slightly out of sorts since the entire attack. It would appear the minister had been quite shaken by the threat on his life and he was eternally grateful that Dumbledore and the other professors had managed to save his life, along with those of all the students and visiting dignitaries. Of course there was also the chance that Fudge was acting out of sorts because of the memory modification he had been subjected to.

It had been Lupin and Snape who went down to the dungeons to release their students from the fear of attack. Bill didn't know the whole story, seeing as Snape had only grinned with a creepy glint in his eye when asked what had happened, and Lupin had stuck to the most basic details. What Bill understood was that after all the ministers and students had left the dungeons Cornelius Fudge had been suddenly energized as he understood what had happened.

"That boy stopped a _Balista_!" He had cried in glee. "Merlin, the strength he must have! I knew he was powerful, but I had no idea the extent of his skill!" He had then stopped speaking abruptly, realizing that the two professors were looking at him in uncontained fury. "Well, never mind. I suppose it's not that big of a deal." He had hurriedly tried to disguise his excitement. Needless to say that Lupin had decided that Fudge needed to forget that Ron Weasley was anything other then an ordinary wizard trying to make his way in the world. Snape had apparently agreed. Between a memory potion (that Snape had had in his pocket for some suspicious reason) and some tricky little charms, Fudge had forgotten all about Bill's little brother. His dad was making sure that the charms were holding in place. As long as nothing was disturbed within a three-day trial period they could be certain Fudge would never, not even under Snape's most powerful truth serum, be able to speak of Ron being a chaneller.

Mum had sent the largest box of her best homemade cookies and tarts to the potions master (not receiving any note of thanks) and had pretty much ordered Lupin to come over for dinner for the rest of his life. It was on that first night, after they had finally determined that Ron just needed a lot of rest and the chaos caused by the battle had quieted down, that Lupin had sat around the expanded family dining table and explained to the family as well as Dumbledore and McGonagall, what had happened with him and Ron in the last months.

Bill still wasn't sure of what to think of the story. He knew Lupin had done the right thing by not abandoning Ron to tell his family he was okay, but the thought that they could have known months ago that Ron was still alive, that he was okay, made him a bit antsy. He looked up as the kitchen door opened and Professor McGonagall stepped into the living room, a cup of tea balanced in one hand and a plate stacked high with cookies in another. He took the plate from her and carefully placed it on the table, not taking one of the treats. His mum tended to bake when she was worried, and if he had to eat any more of her goodies he would be sick.

"Thank you." The prim and proper professor smiled lightly at him and took a seat on the green couch opposite. She placed the cup down after a sip and then removed her pointed hat to reveal her hair in its normal, efficient, tight bun. He leaned forward slightly as he watched her. "I suppose you would like an update?" She stated more then asked.

"If you wouldn't mind Professor. I haven't had any news except the rubbish in the prophet." She had once, two years before, given him permission to address her by her name, seeing as they were no longer teacher/student. He hadn't been able to, some old habits didn't die he supposed, but as a compromise he had turned the title into more of a nickname.

"Your brother should be home in a few more hours." She stated, referring to Charlie. He hadn't wanted to leave the Burrow, but he had been given the charge of locating and disposing of every single dragon that had been involved in the attack. It wasn't a difficult task; seeing as every one of the dragons had fallen dead to the ground the moment Ron had dispersed the evil _Balista's_ energy into the well-cushioned grounds around Hogwarts. They hadn't been chased far from the school by Harry's patronus and had therefore not harmed anyone in their sudden demise (except for several areas of forest, which now suffered from broken trees). Nevertheless it was Charlie, who knew more then the rest of the division about the situation, whom had been called upon to dispose of the bodies properly and with the respect that the creatures disserved. Never had so many magnificent and proud animals come to such a disastrous end.

"Hagrid," she continued, "is in his glory taking care of that dragon that Lupin said was Ron's friend."

"I take it he's feeling much better then."

"They couldn't keep him in the healers care any longer then it took to have him walking again. He's limping an awful lot and moving very slowly, but he'll be fine." Hagrid had been injured badly from the battle. He had stood ground at the front doors of the school and fended off several of the deadly beasts with his massive crossbow, a special net (that had been hidden immediately after the battle seeing as it was an item not generally accepted outside of certain professions), and his fists. He had nearly lost his leg, his beard had been half singed off and he was now slightly deaf in his left ear, but he was in high spirits. Good ol' Hagrid, it took more then a few raging dragons to knock him down.

"The students haven't stopped talking about the attack and there are several who believe that the stranger who visited our school was Ronald."

"Of course they would, who else would Harry defy Dumbledore for when Hermione was blatantly present." Bill grinned, not worried about the hearsay.

"The ministry is keeping a fairly tight lip on the details, as they do with anything important, and for once I'm glad that that's the case. Madame Hooch will be released from St. Mungo's tomorrow morning and professor Flitwick will be released in another week." Well, that was all he was really interested in knowing and he leaned back in his seat, nodding to himself in thought. They spent the next ten minutes in comfortable silence (ignoring the banging pots in the next room) until the twins trudged heavily down he stairs and just sprawled out across the floor, taking up the entire space. McGonagall merely stepped over them as she headed up to her old students bedroom to take her watch. Bill suspected that she even sang to his brother, but as of yet nobody had been able to prove it and Harry wasn't saying a word.

OOOOO

Harry was uncomfortable, _really_ uncomfortable. But he just couldn't find the energy to move to his cot. He could picture the magically enhanced softness of the bed lying only a few feet from him; he could envision the pillows and warm blankets. The problem was that getting there required him to open his eyes, and then he would have to actually _move_. So instead he remained half slouched where he had been dozing: in the chair that sat beside Ron's bed. His chin was resting on his chest and he just knew that if he moved the stiffness in his neck would be unbearable, so it was better to hold off on aggravating the pain.

He decided that it must be well past midnight, seeing as not even the ghoul in the attic was creating a stir. Behind his closed eyes he could see a faint shifting of shadows, which meant that Molly and Arthur (who were always the last to leave Ron's bedside and the first to get to it in the morning) had left one or two candles burning in case Harry needed them to get back to his own bed. He breathed deeply, comforted by their care. Next to Harry they spent the most time in Ron's room, using their parental authority to its fullest, but as a result they were also the most knackered by the end of the day, and it had been a few long days.

Harry himself was utterly exhausted, but it had nothing to do with Ron unknowingly using his energy to heal, because Ron hadn't used a gram of his energy yet. If anything Harry thought Ron occasionally tried to give him a boost, unaware of his actions in his unconscious state. No, Harry was exhausted because he had hardly slept. If he could think clearly he would realize that Ron had been in the burrow three days now, which meant that Harry hadn't rested properly in almost four. He'd dozed occasionally, like he had been just moments before, but those naps rarely lasted longer then an hour. But now it was past midnight, he was sure of it, and his body ached like it had after the battle with Voldemort, maybe even more so.

The burns on his legs had been healed days before, but they were still a little pink and it was likely that the hair wouldn't grow back in certain patches. As it were he didn't remember much about how the healers had finally managed to heal him. When Ron had finally been able to release Richard Yorkshire's energies (watching his friend writhe in pain had been as difficult as seeing Voldemort looming over him all those years before) Harry remembered grabbing onto him like a lifeline, certain that that was what Ron had needed. Ron had apparently agreed, because the second he realized that Harry was actually there, with him, he had closed his fists around Harry's dress robes and refused to let go. It had been five hours before his long pale fingers had released Harry, and only then because Harry had finally allowed Pomfrey to zap Ron with a body-numbing spell.

Needless to say that after two years of wondering where his friend was, why he had left them all so rashly, doing his best to find him while training to be an auror, and finally getting him back only to learn that Ron had somehow decided he was responsible for Harry's death…Harry wasn't about to leave his side again. This time _nobody_ could convince him to take a break; mind they had a lot of trouble convincing themselves to take a break as well. Ron was Harry's family, his best mate, his confident, and his rock. He had missed him to the point that it had hurt. Now that he was back he was going to make sure that Ron knew all those things.

After a few minutes of sitting in the chair with his head bent awkwardly forward his clouded mind realized that something felt different. He felt like he was being watched. He opened his eyes, blinking furiously to focus them before realizing that he didn't have his glasses on. However, not being able to see clearly didn't mean he was blind, and the first thing he noticed in his sudden alertness, was that Ron was awake, and staring at him.

"Ron?" He blinked again, wishing he could see his friend properly, because it was all too possible that he was imagining that his eyes were open. There was no response so he turned and looked at the small bedside table, spotting the fuzzy outline of his neatly folded glasses. He grabbed for them, barely missing knocking over the half melted candle that burned so brightly. He set his glasses upon his nose with years of practiced ease and looked back at Ron. He was right, Ron was awake, sitting up, and staring at him out of watery blue eyes.

"Ron?" He leaned closer to his friend, reaching out to touch his arm. "Ron, are you all right?" He kept his voice low and hid the nervousness he suddenly felt. Ron blinked at him and then his brow furrowed in a frown.

"'Arry?" Ron closed his mouth, swallowed and then tried speaking again, sounding more confident this time. "Harry? Is that really you?"

"Yes Ron, it's me."

"Yer…not quite as dead as I thought you were." As he said this his eyes watered a bit more but he blinked the moisture back defiantly, trying to hold onto his emotions. Harry swallowed as he thought of how he would feel if he thought he'd killed Ron, and he found that he couldn't really comprehend what a shock this must be to him.

"Far from it." He squeezed Ron's arm to emphasise his point and was worried to feel the flesh beneath his hand trembling.

"But…that day in Hogsmeade…you fell right after that Death Eater. You fell just like him, your eyes went white and, and then Fudge said that…" Ron blinked, no doubt trying to remember his conversation with the minister, and his face began to turn red as he remembered something that Harry couldn't follow. Ron started to shake his head negatively. "No, but…then McTagert, he showed me a clipping from the _Daily Prophet_ and it was covering your funeral!" Harry clenched his teeth in an attempt to hold onto his temper, as he understood what Ron was saying. Ron had asked Fudge about him, and Fudge had somehow mislead him to believe Harry had died, then that bastard McTagert must have played up on Ron's belief in order to help control him. That coupled with Ron's own lack of belief in his self had convinced him of his 'crime.'

"They tricked you Ron, they tricked you! I'm not dead, you didn't kill me, and you saved me, again. This is getting to be a habit, though I can't say it's a bad one." He tried to lighten the mood but Ron wasn't going to forgive himself so easily.

"But I saw you fall, I felt your energy inside me!"

"You took just a little energy Ron, you couldn't help it. Dumbledore said that when you stopped that Death Eater from killing me the force of all that energy passing by me was too much of a shock for my system. I passed out for a short while, no more, but you didn't wake up until the next day! None of us were there when you woke up because we went to the quidditch match, remember?"

"But McGonagall was chasing me and she looked absolutely furious. I swear she was going to cast an unforgivable!" Harry remembered how outraged she had been, but it had been because she knew Fudge had said something to make Ron panic.

"Ron, if they were all that angry would they have really let you get better in the school's hospice? If they thought you were a danger would they let you anywhere near the students?" He tried to reason. Ron stared at him a moment as realization seemed to bloom in his mind, and then he abruptly looked away from Harry.

"I'm such an idiot." He muttered softly, darkly. "An absolute butter-brain."

"No, you were confused." Ron glared even harder at the blankets that were pooled around his waist. "Ron, listen to me." Harry ordered, but his friend still had his stubborn temper after these two years away and didn't even turn his head slightly. "Ron! There was so much going on in your mind that of course you were going to convince yourself of the worst possible scenarios! You already thought that we would all hate and abandon you the moment we knew you were a chaneller. You were terrified, I realize that now, and when you woke up nobody was there for you, anyone would draw the conclusions you came to." Ron nodded weakly at Harry's protests but Harry had the distinct impression that the action was only to appease him, and not because Ron believed what he was saying. He sighed.

Looking over Ron he once again noted all the changes in his friend. His face wasn't as soft as it had once been; the skin had the keen look of someone who spent a lot of time outdoors. His cheeks had sunken in slightly, he had bags under his eyes, he was pale and he was skinnier then Harry remembered. This was a problem because Ron had been too skinny to begin with, despite the unnatural amount of food he used to consume at school. His arm was still trembling under Harry's hand, the bangle that had caused so much irritation long gone. Ron had suffered with it for so long, and all he had needed to do was ask somebody else to remove it for him. They sat in silence for a long time, Harry sensing that Ron needed the time to think, to understand exactly what was going on. When his trembling suddenly increased Harry moved right up beside him, no longer caring for the distance they remained at as worry for Ron overcame his sense of personal space.

"What? Ron, tell me what's wrong."

"Harry, you're alive," He said, as though that explained everything. Harry nodded in agreement but remained silent, waiting for Ron to continue. It didn't take long.

"You're alive, this whole time. I should have known; I should have figured it out! I couldn't feel you permanently inside me like I feel that Death Eater, I couldn't feel you like those cats, or like the Dragon Lord. They sit, in here" he thumped his chest roughly, "but you didn't and I never realized it. I thought you were dead all this time."

"Ron, it's okay, I'm here and I don't plan on leaving. It doesn't matter that you didn't realize it."

"But I never cried for you Harry!" He suddenly gushed out in a voice filled with shame, anger, disbelief, guilt…he blinked hard and stared at his hands, which were now tightly clenched in his hands as he spoke. "I never grieved. What kind of person kills someone who means so much to them, and doesn't shed more then one bloody tear?"

"Of course you didn't Ron, because you knew I wasn't dead."

"I thought about it day and night Harry! I got even less sleep then normal, I was damned sure you were dead." He shook his head in disgust at himself.

"No Ron, if you truly believed it then you would have grieved. You convinced yourself, but you didn't believe it enough. You kept the hope."

"I did not." He insisted stubbornly, and sniffed in a childlike way that was completely out of form for him.

"You did." That seemed to be all the emotions Ron could handle as the first hot tears began to stream down his cheeks and he struggled to not let his anguish get out of control. Harry sat on the bed and held him as he lost that struggle and huge heaping sobs broke the stillness of the room. Harry wasn't sure what it was that Ron cried for, whether it was for his supposed death, believing his family hated him, living through the torture that McTagert put him through, the pain of stealing all the lives that remained partly nestled within him, haunting him; maybe Ron cried for the loneliness he'd felt for so long, for the struggle of survival in the wilderness, for believing he would spend the rest of his life alone. Maybe he cried for all the dragon's that had so pointlessly died that horrible night, for the lives lost in the battle against Voldemort, for the pain his own family had suffered over these years. There was no specific that Harry could think of to create such sorrow within his once happy friend, but he determined that Ron's tears was a mixture of it all. He'd never shown how afraid he was before, and now he was finally letting it all out.

Clutching each other they sat there for an hour as Ron's sobs drifted to sniffles but he didn't let go of Harry, not wanting to release him just in case he wasn't really there. Harry felt the presence of Ron's parents outside the door shortly after his red haired friend had broken down, but they hadn't come in or announced their presence. Once Ron had calmed they had silently headed back to their room, sensing his need to be only with Harry. Too much was going on within their younger son as he came to grips with this new stage in life, he didn't need any more burdens that moment. They would see him when the sun rose.

The next morning they found Ron and their adopted son Harry sprawled across the expanse of the bed, Ron's hand clutched tightly around Harry's pyjama sleeve and Harry barley managing to stay on the mattress. They kept the family out of the room so the two could get some real rest, and it was well past lunch when the entire family was finally reunited once again.

OOOOO

**_Epilogue_ **

Ron remained at the Burrow for a few months as he reacquainted himself with his family and with being around so many people once again. There were times when he snapped at them for being too close, for sneaking up on him unintentionally, or for mothering him when he was so used to depending on only himself. His family understood this, even though they knew little of what he had truly been through. Ron didn't speak a lot about what had happened to him, trying in his own way to protect them from his pain. The only person he truly confided in was Harry.

At first Ron's temper had been very short, he had felt uneasy, he acted as though he was unsure of their intentions, as though he expected his family and friends to suddenly turn on him at any moment. It took a while for them to all settle down, and for his family to adapt to some of the drastic changes in his personality. They were patient though, and with the help of Lupin they learned how to understand some of his reactions and curb their own behaviour towards him. He had become more awkward with physical contact, so they only hugged and pet him in small doses (after a year he would become comfortable enough to reach out to people as he had in his youth, but it always takes time to heal from trauma such as he suffered from).

He had travelled to Hagrid's every other day to help with Forge's healing. The half giant had taken quite a liking to the bright orange and brown creature, and Forge didn't seem to mind all the extra attention and easy food. The brave dragon had been injured as he had flown down to aid a group of redheads that he had confused as Ron; the fight had resulted in a broken wing and some serious abrasions. When Lupin heard that he had been injured he had taken Hagrid to Ron (as he slept at the Burrow) and had pointed at the red and black whip protectively encircled around Ron's still swollen arm. Hagrid had touched it in interest, and the whip, understanding that it was needed elsewhere, moved to take up a new residence with the giant. Over time they grew fond of each other and the whip helped Hagrid to calm Forge and take care of him. In the end Ron didn't ask for it back, seeing as Hagrid was so happy with it. When Forge was healed Ron accompanied him back to Romania and left his friend with fond tears in his eyes and a promise to visit. If Forge ever needed Ron, he should just come to the Burrow…quietly, and at night.

His brothers had swarmed around him as though he was the honey maker of the hive. He'd never received such undivided attention as they asked him question after question about living in Romania. They refrained from asking their morbid questions about his time with McTagert (hoping that if he spoke about it he would be able to heal from it) after Ron had abruptly apparated to the field behind their house to escape answering them. Bill and the twins had been the worst, and it had taken some talking to convince them that Ron didn't blame them for trying to force him to talk all those years before. In actuality Ron barely remembered the confrontation that had never taken place, but he understood that his brothers would have latched onto those memories of guilt, even if he felt they were justly undeserved.

Ginny, Ron had been extremely proud to learn, had been accepted as an apprentice to Andre Van Heldhof, one of the worlds leading experts on possession and exorcism's. It made sense to him, seeing as Ginny had once been a victim of such a horrible encounter, that she would become rather obsessed in helping other people who were suffering the same fate. She was fanatic about it actually, and she took every chance she could to explain what she had learned in the four months she had been in training. She was big on possessive prevention, which was a difficult concept for such a career, but someone had to try it he supposed. The two years he had missed her she had grown into a beautiful young woman, and when he'd first laid eyes on her standing among his brothers around his bed, he'd been stunned. His little sister wasn't so little anymore.

As for Cornelius Fudge, he was disbarred as the Minister of Magic only weeks after Ron's return. It had been a fair election, conducted under the strict eye of election officials (there was rumour that the previous election had been tampered with, suggesting that Fudge had won unfairly, though there was no evidence). There had been a cry out for Dumbledore to step up to the position, but the old wizard had merely smiled with a twinkle in his eyes and stated that Hogwarts is where he would remain. In the end a middle aged, retired curse breaker was elected as the new minister. In her spare time she enjoys collecting professional quidditch players cast off brooms, goblin crosswords, and reading as many reports from all departments within the ministry as humanely possible. Hermione was heard to go off on tangents about how this new minister would change things for the better, and then she would rant about all the change to be desired.

Hermione Granger had fought brilliantly against the dragons, as Fred and George were heard to brag about. She had suffered only minor injuries but had to return home to her muggle parents when they discovered how close she had (again) come to certain peril. Her father had been particularly coddling over the next few days, not allowing her to leave his sight for longer then half an hour at a time. When news reached her that Ron had finally awoken she had apologized to her parents, ordered them not to worry about her, hastily packed a large bag and went to stay with the Weasley's. Ron had seen her cry only twice during the course of their friendship. Once had been in their first year when he had horribly commented on her having no friends, and the second time had been during the battle against Voldemort, when she had been forced to stand aside and watch her two best friends face off against almost certain death.

When she had seen Ron, really seen him, for the first time in so long she had broken down and sobbed into his shoulder for an entire minute before composing herself. Ron hadn't known what to say and Harry had been little help as he stood off to the side and simply watched with a sad smile on his face. Later he would tell Ron about how she blamed herself for not figuring Ron was a chaneller sooner and helping him. After she had composed herself there was no need for Ron to really say anything as she launched into admonishments about him not telling her he was a chaneller, for running away and leaving her to take care of Harry, about her job at the ministry, about his family's own accomplishments, etc. A week later when she returned to the ministry her coworkers were startled as they found they didn't fully recognize her. She was less testy, she suddenly smiled more and, for the first time since they had met her, she really started to relish her work. If they thought she had been excellent at her job before, they found that her new zeal made her five times more clever, creative and energetic. Her boyfriend, Victor Krum, was thrilled to see her truly happy.

Somehow, after her visit to the Burrow had ended, she had managed to convince Ron to let her study his chaneller abilities, to record what he could do and try and learn, for the first time in wizarding history, exactly what a chaneller was capable of. Seeing as his skills were to be kept a secret from all those except a select group of people, Ron had no issues with Hermione being the one to _study_ him so to speak. She was in her element and, really, anything that helped him understand what he was could only be a bonus. If someone was going to be a leading expert on Chaneller's then he would rather it be his Hermione.

As for Ron and Harry it was no question that their lives would continue to be as exciting as they ever were, despite their attempts at being normal wizards. Harry had rebuilt his parent's home while Ron had been away and had been living there alone for about half a year. It was quickly decided, when Ron finally became extremely aggravated at being surrounded by so many people at the Burrow and needing his own independence once again, that he would take the spare room in Harry's house for as long as he needed it.

The arrangement was perfect as far as both young men were concerned: Harry could now keep an eye on his best friend and Ron could be reminded as often as necessary that Harry wasn't dead. In the end it allowed both men time to heal and allowed them to provide the support each other needed. Ron taught Harry how to use his sixth sense to its fullest potential; Harry taught Ron how to cook things that didn't come out of a can. They both woke each other from their nightmares.

Only a week after Ron's return to the wizarding world he and his father made a trip to _Ollivander's Wand Shop_. He hadn't allowed himself to dream of having a wand again, and stepping into the dim, musty shop had brought tears to his eyes a moment as his father had grasped his shoulders in support. _Beachwood and unicorn hair. Ten and a half inches. A sturdy wand with grounding properties and a whippy nature_. Ollivander had appeared quite proud to have finally found someone to be accepted by the wand, but he hadn't said much more then that. The wand itself felt very comfortable in his hands, despite the fact that aesthetically it looked very roughly hewn, as though its creator had simply found a stick and hastily shaved off large chunks to bring it to its slightly bent final stages.

However, Ron's return to the wizarding world hadn't been completely full of happiness. Unfortunately, as it is with every war, there were casualties from his fight against the Dragon Lord. In a moment of true courage and with a loyalty that fairies rarely bestow, Hornblend and Howlite had sacrificed their lives for his own. When he woke up every morning he felt their sacrifice keenly, missing their playful (if sometimes aggravating) antics with a strength he wouldn't have associated with his tiny friends. Their connection had apparently run deeper within him then he had thought.

As it were, their sacrifice was the reason he was still alive and in his right mind. When he had pulled the dark _Balista's_ energies from him they had somehow latched onto Ron's own bright energy within him. He knew that to leech such vile energies and accept them within himself could leave him permanently attached to their powers, much like he had stolen Tonks's hair colour changing capabilities, or like Harry had received his own sixth sense. When Ron had been at the forest edge with Harry he had found that he couldn't release the darkness from within him, even after Harry had removed the excruciating bangle from his wrist. In the end the two fairies had somehow forced him to take their own energies, and in doing so they had attacked the darkness and chased it from him. He remained sensitive to the presence of other dark energies, but he contained none within himself, only the lightness his two saviours had given him.

They still managed to make their presence known, however, as his eyes would occasionally turn a golden red and shine as thought on fire when his temper got the better of him. Dumbledore said that without their light, the darkness of Richard Yorkshire would have eventually consumed him, either driving him into a dangerous and volatile insanity, or to death. Every night Ron would thank them, and every morning he could feel their kind replies within himself.

It also turned out, much to Ron's apparent surprise, that he had done exceptionally well on his NEWTS. Almost as good as Percy in fact, even though Snape had left a threatening message stating: _by the skin of your teeth_ beside the tiny _N_ for his potions grade. It was Kingsly Shaklebolt who, after a dinner at the Burrow one evening, convinced Ron to try as an auror. Ron had always wanted to be one when he was younger, but after everything he had forgotten that he still needed to choose a career. He and Harry actually found it quite amusing that, after everything they had already accomplished, they still needed to get a job. Ron hadn't wanted to rush into it though, despite the fact that he knew he needed a career that would keep him busy and that would help people.

Kingsly had, however, dropped a few well placed comments that had convinced Ron (rather quickly) that being an auror might be exactly what he wanted to do. Of course with Kingsly being aware that Ron was a chaneller (he was one of the few outside the family that was trusted with this information) he could help Ron to…write a _plausible_ report should he ever be required to use his skills in the field. As well, seeing as Ron could skip the basic fitness and defence training required by all new auror's, he could move quickly through the instruction and be placed with a partner in just over six months. The fact that Harry was still looking for a partner and that Ron had become a bit paranoid about his best mates safety made becoming an auror seem like the perfect solution.

Quickly the two young men learned how to work together with the same fluidity that their friendship had blossomed into over the years. It didn't surprise anyone who knew them well that they could become such an efficient team. Despite their rashness of youth, their boldness, and their disregard for certain politics it quickly became apparent that they would be two of the best auror's the ministry had ever produced. Their thirst for helping people as well as their undeniable strengths as wizards made them a force to be reckoned with. If they ever needed any help they would always turn to their third, unofficial, partner, Hermione Granger, who was often seen consulting them in the busy halls of the ministry.

Once they had both become official auror's and partners within the ministry a request that the team be given four days off every full moon was granted and then placed out of sight and mind at the back of the largest, most unorganized filing system the ministry had to offer (Hermione cringed as she helped Shaklebolt file the papers). It was during these few nights a month that Lupin would bring a certain number of people affected by the wolf, to visit Ron. It was all very secretive, and nobody who ever went to see Ron actually got a look at his face, but they learned to swear by this mysterious healer's ability to chase away the wolf that plagued and tormented them so. Ron always made sure that he saw just as many children and teenagers as he did adults, and he always left the selection of who to help up to Lupin. He would sleep for a solid day after he had helped as many as he could.

And so it was that life went on, surrounded by family and friends, mysteries and adventure, pain and struggle, love and hate, life and death. The lessons that were learned were difficult, but they also allowed for the understanding of how precious life truly is, and that through our mistakes we can learn and find the happiness and love that is deserved.

**THE END**

Well, there it is. One very large Ron Weasley and Harry Potter fanfic COMPLETED. I know a large number of you have been following this story, and I would really appreciate it if you let me know how you liked (or didn't like) it!

**Harry Lvr**. What can I say, your reviews have been absolutely terrific and I can't wait to get this last one (which you promised would be very long!). I really appreciate that you have reviewed on every single chapter (and I don't think that's an exaggeration) and I loved hearing your comments and theories and everything else you had to say!

Now, to answer your comments and questions: You made a comment that you didn't think the words Hogwarts, Voldemort, and Summit were enough for Ron to determine where the final battle would take place. I suppose it is a bit sketchy, but when you think about all the hype based around the end of Voldemort and Hogwarts' place within the wars entire history, and the insanity and vengeful feelings of the Dragon Lord, it just sort of fell into place. That and Ron was likely a little crazy and therefore able to think like the dragon lord :)

As for Lupin thinking the name sounds familiar (jeeze, I had to go and read those bits again to be sure this answer was right ;). I never stated that age of the Richard Yorkshire (Dragon Lord) or when he went to school but I did say he had associated himself with Tom Riddle/Voldemort and that he disappeared after he graduated from Hogwarts. This association didn't have to take place through school however, and therefore the likelihood that Richard Yorkshire was at Hogwarts for at least one of Lupin's years is entirely possible :) I hope that answers that question!

Harry's patronous…definitely weird, but I figured he's a strong and powerful wizard, and he was being given a chance at having Ron back for good, and he was going to do everything he could to keep it that way. I don't know if anyone noticed but I did actually have him think three separate (and positive) thoughts just before casting his patronous instead of just one.

I sincerely hoe that aswers your questions, and if you have anymore (which I would love to hear and answer) then I'll post a review in response to it! I wish you all the best in the land of Aussie (Aussie football Rules! But rugby's better) and thank you again for being so supportive of this fic!

**Scribhneoir**. Thank you as well for your many (many many…) reviews! It's nice to know that the line "Is every egotistical, power hungry, world dominating, evil wizard from Hogwarts!" stood out so much! I had fun writing that one! As for Ron finally deciding that he was underestimated a little too often, I felt it was time he gave himself a little respect.

I'm sorry I had to end it for Horns and Howly, but I think their sacrifice was their ultimate gift to him. I created them as his guardian angels from the beginning, and I don't think of them as gone because they have simply come to live in a different state within him.

I mentioned the bracelet being removed in this chapter, but just to clarify a little further I'll say that it was designed specifically so that only Ron couldn't remove it. If he had trusted Lupin enough he could have asked him for his help long before…but that wouldn't be very in character with the Ron I've developed ;)

I'm also really glad that Harry and Ron's meeting went well in your books! I wasn't sure if it was too much emotion or not enough. I was also worried for a while about their first conversation (that took place in this chapter ;), but in the end I was happy with it. Really, there's only so much that needs to be said.

As for the ending of this story, I felt it was necessary to paint their future without going into a lot of detail (that would have been a whole other book). I could never, ever, see the trio actually settling down and living somewhat normal wizard lives. No way. They've just experienced and been involved in waaaay too much to simply stop helping people. As far as I'm concerned they're going to be helping other until the end.

As is all of your reviews were a delight to read and I thank you for taking the time to let me know you appreciate the story.

I should also clarify my reasons for the lack of relationships in this story (since I suspect people are curious, but I apologize for blithering on if you're not). Simply put, there are so many stories out there with the relationships that I wanted to steer clear and make this simply a friendship fic. There's just as much love and emotion involved, it's just too bad for hopeless romantics :) As for Hermione and Krum, and not Hr/R, why not? Sometimes being with someone through so many different experiences solidifies a friendship to the point where going beyond would be risking too much.

I would also like to thank **catc10 (**I really hope you didn't hurt yourself crashing around the room! LOL)**, Kamonkey, ** and **Noompjuh** and **EVERYONE!** Else who reviewed throughout the course of the this novel sized fic. You ROC!

All the Best.

Danielle

18


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